


I'm Only Honest When It Rains

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Dean-Centric, F/F, F/M, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I needed to write something and this was born, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Charlie Bradbury/Jo Harvelle, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags May Change, Underage Drinking, idk - Freeform, ish, rape/non con is not between deancas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 28
Words: 52,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22995697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dean is in his senior year of highschool, and he doesn't deal with his problems. Not like he should, anyway. He's supposed to be a man about them, right? He can't let anyone know what he feels. But one night, after a party goes horribly wrong, he's saved by the one person he never expected to. Castiel Novak. It's a roller-coaster from there on.~I'm not good at summaries. Title from Neptune by Sleeping at Last.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 122
Kudos: 361





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this sprouted from an idea i'd had for a while now, and i finally got around to writing it down. please be gentle, i'm usually hesitant to post the things i write, and i've finally found the courage to do so. comments and kudos are appreciated!
> 
> -
> 
> tws in this chapter for: rape/non con themes (non graphic), self harm references, suicidal thoughts references. please stay safe everyone <3

Dean isn’t quite sure how he got here. He remembers coming to the party. He remembers drinking two or three, maybe four or five cups of whatever it was there was to drink, which was evidently mixed with some kind of alcohol. He doesn’t remember much of what came after, but he knows he’s now being shoved in the corner of the room by someone he doesn’t know, or at least, someone he doesn’t think he knows, and he can’t get away. He tries to push the guy off, but his muscles aren’t working as they should. 

Damn alcohol.

He tries to yell. His voice doesn’t obey him. His face is being shoved into the wall before he realises he’s been turned around. He tries to struggle some more, but he can’t move away. He doesn’t know what else to do, he squirms and shakes and kicks, all to no avail. His mind is screaming, but that scream won’t make it past his lips. He curses himself for being so weak, for letting himself get into this situation. He curses himself for not staying home with Sammy. He curses himself for knowing what’s going to happen. He curses himself for being alive at this moment, for being born, for existing at all. And he squeezes his eyes shut, just hoping it’ll be over soon as he feels hands in his hair, on the back of his neck, down his back, tugging at his flannel, under the hem of his black long-sleeved t shirt, pulling at his jeans…

The hands are gone a moment later, but Dean doesn’t dare open his eyes. He doesn’t know what’s happening. Is he supposed to turn around? Is the guy leaving him alone? He carefully pushes away from the wall when he regains control of his muscles, and he opens his eyes slowly. He’s met by icy blue irises staring back at him. He recognises those eyes. He knows Castiel Novak well enough to recognise that shade of blue. He and Castiel don’t interact much, but they don’t get along when they do. There’s always a stream of angry arguments and swears and shit that would probably turn to punches if it weren’t for their friends. Which is why Dean can’t understand why Castiel is looking at him with those goddamn blue eyes and why the guy who was on him a second ago is groaning in pain on the floor. Perhaps the most confusing thing that Dean doesn’t understand is why Castiel looks _worried._ He doesn’t understand it at all. He curses himself for not understanding. “What?” he asks, his voice betraying him as it shakes, and his eyes stinging with tears.

Damn alcohol.

Castiel’s eyes move down, as if looking Dean over, before they meet his gaze again. Shit, those eyes could see into someone’s very soul, and Dean is sure that their scanning every inch of his very being. “Dean,” Castiel finally says in that gravelly voice that sounds so damn great at the moment. Dean curses himself for feeling relieved to hear it. Castiel’s mouth hangs open as if he wants to say more, but he says nothing. Dean shakes his head slightly. He’s just been saved by the douchebag that he’s constantly arguing with. Awesome. He curses himself for that, too.

“‘M fine. Jus’ gotta…” he starts, but trails off. His head is spinning like a merry-go-round. He doesn’t know what to do. He just wants to go home. But he’ll be damned if he’s about to show that, especially to someone he doesn’t like. He forces himself to stand as straight as he can without falling over, before trying to make his way past Castiel. He jumps back when the guy who’d been on him starts to stand up, nearly knocking into Castiel.

Fuck.

Before Dean can process what’s happening, he’s being pulled through the house holding this godforsaken party by his wrist. It stings; despite the alcohol, he can still feel the pain of self-inflicted wounds hidden beneath his long, dark sleeves. His eyes close at some point to distract himself from the pain and to try and keep himself from passing out. He’s not sure, but he thinks he whimpers quietly as Castiel half-drags him out the front door. The sudden change in air feels like a slap to the face, and Dean forces his eyes open. The night air feels brittle somehow, like it might break. Dean feels like he might break, too, but maybe that’s just the alcohol. And it’s probably the alcohol that has Dean tripping over his feet and collapsing on the porch the moment they’re outside.

God. Damn. Alcohol.

Dean doesn’t make a move to stand. He’s shaking too much, anyway. He feels arms wrapping around his torso, trying to pull him up, and he uses all the strength in his quivering muscles to jerk away. He knows Castiel saved him, but that doesn’t mean he likes him. He also doesn’t know what Castiel is doing now anyways. At this point, he doesn’t want to trust anyone ever again. He doesn’t want to be touched, either. He _can’t_. He thinks he mutters a small ‘stop’ when he feels Castiel’s hands on his shoulders. Castiel listens and pulls his hands away. Maybe trusting him is okay for now?

“Dean,” Castiel says, interrupting Dean’s drunken thoughts. Dean looks up slowly, seeing those icy blue eyes again, though his vision is blurred by...something. Dammit, tears. He’s about to cry. Castiel tilts his head ever so slightly, a movement so small, Dean’s surprised he notices it. “Let me take you home.”

“No.” Dean shakes his head at first, trying to push himself up with shaking legs and arms. Every movement feels like a battle, and he loses the war. He can’t get off the ground, so he just nods a bit. “‘Kay,” he mumbles, his eyes refusing to meet Castiel’s. He hears Castiel shift on the porch.

“May I touch you? To help you to your car.”

Dean hesitates. He wants to say yes. But his mind feels like murky water, and what little clarity it has is screaming at him. He wants to go home. He wants to sleep this off. But he can’t show it. He can’t let anyone see him like this. Can’t let anyone see him weak. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t…

He nods after what seems like forever. He feels himself being lifted from the ground, and then he’s leaning against Castiel’s body, and _damn_ , it feels nice. Dean shakes his head slightly and curses himself for thinking that. It’s wrong. Liking the way being close to someone who isn’t a girl feels is wrong. Letting himself be humiliated in front of someone who’s basically his enemy is wrong. His father wouldn’t like that _._

They’re at Dean’s 1967 Chevy Impala moments later. It occurs to Dean somewhere in the back of his head that it’s strange Castiel knows which car is his. But he can’t dwell on the thought long, because he’s on the ground again, and his guts are expelling everything inside of them. He stays like that, emptying the drinks and his dinner and anything else in his stomach onto the dark asphalt of the road where his car is parked. After a minute or two of non stop throwing up, and another of gagging with nothing coming up, he wipes his mouth carelessly on his sleeve. “‘M sorry,” he utters out, his voice broken and raw. He thinks maybe Castiel has gone, but he can’t make himself look up to check. His thought is proven wrong when he hears Castiel’s rough voice a moment later.

“Keys.”

Dean is too tired to argue. Not that he wants to, for once. He fumbles his hands around in all his pockets, finally pulling his keys out a few moments later. His hand shakes as he holds them out for Castiel to take, and he hates himself for it. He feels the keys leave his hand, hears the familiar sound of his car door opening, then strong arms are around him and are lifting him up. He can’t breathe for a moment, the feeling of Castiel’s arms strangling him, pulling the air from his lungs. 

The arms unwrap from his torso a second later, and he’s on the familiar leather seats of the Impala. He hears the car door shut. He thinks he’s alone again. But the driver’s door opens, and Castiel gets in. Dean watches as his blue-eyed saviour drives his car away from the cursed house and its stupid party.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he hears Castiel say. He doesn’t know why. He’s not sure if he likes it. Not sure if he’d rather have Castiel argue with him like he usually does, or if he likes this. He decides to choose the first option. He can’t deal with adding something else on top of what’s already happened tonight. His whole body shudders at the thought.

He passes out at some point on the way back to his house. His last thought is that he wants to go to sleep and never wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a pretty short chapter, but i hope you enjoyed. next chapter will probably be longer. i don't know how often i'll update, but hopefully next chapter will be up soon. have a wonderful day/night!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i finished this next chapter a bit quicker than i thought i would, so here it is! hope you enjoy, comments and kudos appreciated!
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention, mention of suicidal thoughts. be careful and stay safe, everyone <3

Dean does wake up. He wakes up to hear the noise of his car shutting off. He panics for a moment, forgetting why he’s in the passenger seat of his own car and why he would let someone else drive his Baby. It all comes flooding back into his brain after a few seconds, and it feels like someone’s punched his head. It’s all too much, and he finds himself crying moments later. He wants to cry quietly, because he knows someone else is in the car with him, he knows he can’t let someone see him like this, he _knows_ that he shouldn’t let either of those things happen when that someone in his car is Castiel. But he can’t. He’s bawling now, like a goddamn child. Every sob shakes his entire body as if an electric current were passing through him. His mind is still fuzzy, spinning inside his head. His lungs won’t get enough air, and he wonders if this is what dying feels like. Then he decides that this is worse.

He’s being pulled from the car soon, and Castiel helps him to the door of his house. The keys jangle in Castiel’s hand as he finds the one to unlock the door and let them inside. Dean feels the slightest wave of gratitude wash over him as they stumble inside. He keeps crying, partially from relief. He’s finally _home._

Castiel closes the door behind them. “Where’s your room, Dean?” he asks, and his voice sounds muffled for some reason. Dean shakes his head slightly, trying to calm his crying down for just long enough to answer. He manages to do so after a moment, raising his arm limply towards the stairs.

“Up there. Farth...est door down th’ hall.” He can’t get the words to sound quite right, and he hopes to God that Castiel can understand what he’s saying. He’s starting to wonder just how much alcohol was in those drinks, because his head just won’t stop spinning. Apparently, Castiel understands him well enough, because they’re making their way at an excruciatingly slow pace up the stairs. When they finally reach his room, Castiel helps him onto the bed in the dark, and Dean feels as if he could practically melt into his mattress. He lets his body fall, head landing on his pillow. He closes his eyes almost immediately, his sobs still echoing through his room. He keeps expecting to hear Sam, or worse, his father walk in at any moment, because he’s crying so damn loud. But Sam never comes. And thankfully, neither does his dad.

After crying in the dark for what might easily have been thirty minutes, his breathing manages to calm down. He’s still crying, but not nearly as loud. He opens his eyes, taking a deep breath. Castiel is still here. God, _why_ is he still here? He did what he said he was going to do, why is he staying? He’s just standing there, looking solemn and almost... _sad._ Dean hates him all the more for it. And part of him is glad for it. Everything is getting more complicated and Dean’s head hurts from all this thinking, and probably from whatever was in the party drinks, too. Why won’t Castiel leave him to suffer alone?

“How are you feeling?” Castiel asks quietly. Dean barely hears him; his voice still sounds muffled. Dean shakes his head slightly.

“Peachy,” Dean manages to choke out after a moment, turning over on the bed so he’s on his side. He pulls his knees up to his chest, curling up with the blankets and wanting to disappear into the covers. Castiel just watches him with those stupid blue eyes, and Dean feels more exposed than he ever has before. His warped mind is still racing, screaming, forcing him to think of what happened and what could’ve happened at that party. He squeezes his eyes shut. Again, he wonders after a moment if Castiel has left. He opens his eyes when he hears Castiel’s gravelly voice say something. Dean doesn’t hear what. “Huh…?” he mumbles, his voice cracking. Castiel tilts his head slightly, like a goddamn owl or something.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” Castiel repeats, and Dean almost flinches. He considers this. He _is_ thirsty. But he can get his own water. He doesn’t need someone to get it for him, he doesn’t need Castiel, he doesn’t need help, he doesn’t need…

“W...ater. Please.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and he curses himself for being so weak. Alcohol or tiredness or whatever it is, it’s never an excuse for that. For losing his dignity. His _pride_. He’s being weak and pathetic and he knows it. But still, he can’t stop himself, and quite frankly, he doesn’t really want to stop himself. He hates himself for that. His father would.

A moment passes, then Castiel nods and turns to the door, and Dean is left alone. He hates it. And he hates himself for hating it. He hates himself for pretty much everything he’s doing at this point, because he’s being fucking stupid and pathetic, and he _shouldn’t have gone to that damn party_.

Castiel’s back in the blink of an eye. He walks over to the side of the bed, and Dean panics for a split second. “Whaddaryou doing…?” he mutters quickly, before spotting the glass of water in Castiel’s hand. Oh. That. Right.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Castiel starts, but trails off. “I just wanted to help.”

Dean blinks. Then he nods. He hates himself all the more as Castiel carefully holds the glass to Dean’s lips. He ignores the hate he feels for his own being for a moment as he closes his eyes and focuses on how fresh the cold water feels as it pours down his throat. It seems to ease some of the pain in his throat. He drinks and drinks until he can’t anymore, and he reaches a hand up to push the cup away. Castiel understands and puts the glass on the small dresser beside Dean’s bed.

“Goodnight Dean,” Castiel says, and he turns to leave. Dean panics again. He doesn’t want to be alone, he realises. But he can’t. What would his father say? Dean’s being stupid. He _knows_ this. He knows he should just let Castiel go. It’s probably what he would do if he were sober. But he’s not sober now, and hopefully that’s enough of an excuse, because he reaches out towards Castiel, his hand brushing against the other’s arm.

“S-stay,” Dean says hoarsely, and he realises the tears are streaming down his face again. Or perhaps they never stopped. He doesn’t know.

Castiel tilts his head again, just ever so slightly, before his head moves to nod. Dean can’t help but feel relieved. He thinks of how pathetic he’s being, but he doesn’t know what he can do about it at this point. His dignity is almost completely gone at the moment, and alcohol is known to impair judgement, right? He’ll be fine in the morning. Things will be back to normal. He and Castiel will go back to arguing. He’ll go back to how he was. It’ll all be fine.

He falls asleep only minutes after Castiel agrees to stay.

~~~

There’s the first sunlight of the day shining in his eyes when Dean wakes up again. That’s the first thing he notices. The second is that his head hurts like hell. He recalls why, and it makes him sit straight up, as if waking up from a nightmare. Doing so sends a sharp pain through his skull. The third thing he notices is Castiel sitting in the corner of his room, watching him with half-closed eyes.

“Jesus,” is the first thing out of Dean’s mouth when he spots him. “Don’t watch people sleep, that’s fucking creepy.” He finds himself wondering if Castiel slept at all last night.

“It seems you’re feeling better,” Castiel says, and his voice sounds somewhere between annoyed and tired. Dean looks down. He does feel slightly better, mainly because his head isn’t spinning as much and he can hear and say things clearly now. But he still remembers what happened and what could’ve happened. Sort of. It’s all so _vague._ He remembers hands, and he remembers blue eyes. And the memories still make him feel wrong somehow. But he’ll probably be able to keep a lid on his emotions now, at least. So there’s that.

“I am,” he says simply, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pinching the bridge of his nose in some attempt to ease some of the aching in his head. A moment of silence ensues, before Dean sighs. “What are you still doing here?” Castiel tilts his head.

“You asked me to stay.”

“Yeah, well, I was drunk off my ass, so you shouldn’t’ve listened to a word I said.”

“Dean.”

A pause. Dean’s brow furrows.

“What?” he asks, crossing his arms and squinting his eyes slightly at Castiel. Castiel stands from the chair he’s been sitting in.

“You said you were drunk,” he states, his voice sounding devoid of any emotion. Dean swears he’s a damn robot sometimes.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says after a few seconds. “I’d had a couple drinks. Must’ve been mixed with something.” He stands up off the bed. Castiel tilts his head but says nothing, so Dean continues. “Must’ve been some strong shit, too, ‘cause I only had three or four, and I was-”

“There was nothing in the drinks, Dean.”

Dean’s stomach twists at the words.

“Huh?”

“There was nothing in the drinks. If there was, it wasn’t much. I drank quite a lot. It didn’t affect me.”

“What d’you mean? ‘Course there was something in the…” He trails off as the realisation hits him. “Oh.” He swallows hard and runs a hand over his face. “Dammit.” Castiel nods slowly. Dean moves his gaze to a spot on the floor. Castiel speaks a few moments later.

“Dean, I-”

“Thanks for getting me home,” Dean interrupts. “You should go now.” He bites his lip, and he feels sick. He feels like he has a bad hangover. His stomach won’t stop turning. But he’s not gonna let that show right now. Castiel says nothing. Dean looks up at him, sees him nod once. He watches as Castiel turns and leaves the room, and Dean is alone now. He sighs, rolling his shoulders and letting his flannel fall to the floor. He almost expects to look up and see Castiel at the door again. He almost expects it to be like it was all the times last night when he thought Castiel had gone, only to see him again.

But Castiel is gone. Not that it matters.

Dean sighs as he makes his way to the bathroom and sheds the rest of his clothes. He turns on the shower and looks at himself in the mirror. He sees his reflection staring back at him, and _wow,_ he looks like shit. His hair’s a mess; his eyes are slightly red. The sight of himself makes his stomach twist and turn even more, and he’s thankful he hasn’t eaten anything, because he feels like throwing up again. He looks down at the sink as realisation hits him for the second time today, more clearly than before.

He was nearly raped.

He was nearly raped and Castiel saved him.

Castiel saved him.

_Oh God._

Dean doesn’t know what to think of all this. He still doesn’t remember much about it, but what little he does remember just hits ever so slightly differently, and it’s like getting hit by a train. He squeezes his eyes shut a moment in an attempt to push those thoughts away, as well as decrease the pain that seems to be fused to his skull. He opens his eyes a second later and tears his gaze away from the mirror, moving towards the shower and stepping inside. The water is cold. He makes no attempt to make it hotter. Maybe the cold will provide some sort of distraction from having to deal with all the emotions he wants to express but can’t. All the feelings he feels towards himself, towards Castiel, towards whoever tried to use him.

Dean leans against the wall, letting the water, which now feels more cool than cold, run over his body. He wants to scream. He wants to be washed clean by the water covering him until he drowns. He wants to go back and stay as far away as possible from that goddamn party, because it’s affecting him so much more than it should be. He should be okay. He’s sober now. Sober from whatever shit someone must’ve slipped into one of his drinks when he wasn’t looking. He has no excuse to be feeling like this. And yet he does.

And he still hates himself for it.

Dean swallows, taking a deep breath in as he closes his eyes. He needs to relax. He’s okay. He’s fine. It was just some guy fooling around. 

But the _hands_. Dean can still feel them, and his fists clench at the thought. The way they slid over his back. The way they reached under his shirt. The way they almost…

No. Nothing actually happened. It’s not like he actually was raped. Some guy was just fooling around, and someone got in the way. Castiel got in the way.

Dean opens his eyes. That’s another thing. Castiel. Castiel saved him. _Why?_ Dean still doesn’t understand. He thought he would understand more now that he’s not under the influence of some drug or something. But he can’t understand it. He and Castiel don’t get along. They really _don’t_. So why? Dean doesn’t know. But he feels like something’s shifted. He feels like maybe they _could_ get along now. If only well enough for Castiel to keep his mouth shut and not spill the beans on what happened at the party to everyone at school. They can’t know. If they knew about the hands...

Dean shakes his head slightly as he rubs a spot on his back where he remembers being touched. He hates that he remembers anything from that night. Why couldn’t he just forget it all? He wishes he could. But he can’t. So he washes every inch of himself up. Twice, just for good measure. He steps out of the shower and fixes his hair. He practices a smile in the mirror. He wraps himself in a towel, then two, then three, just to make sure most of him is covered as he makes his way back to his room. Then he dresses, same as he does every morning. He goes downstairs, takes a couple pain meds, makes some coffee, waits for Sam to wake up. Everything’s fine.

Really, it’s fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise cas will appear a bit more in the next chapter, as well as charlie and sam, so stay tuned! have a lovely day/night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a pretty short chapter, mostly as an introduction for more of the characters, with a side of more questions that i don't answer yet. don't worry, i promise more will be explained in later chapters!
> 
> tws for self harm mention, rape/noncon mention

Sunday goes by in a blur of anxiety and self-loathing. Dean stays home all day. He goes into the bathroom first thing in the morning and covers his wrists in red. He can’t stop himself; it just sort of happens, and he hates that it does. He doesn’t eat anything and barely drinks anything. He barely notices when his father leaves for the day, only just catching the same order as everyday: “Take care of Sammy.” Dean tries to do just that, but he’s distracted. Sam asks him if they can go out to a restaurant for dinner. He refuses, says goodnight, and goes to bed early.

He cries himself to sleep.

He wakes up Monday morning with his eyes and throat aching from sobbing. He gets ready as quickly as he can. There’s school today. The thought makes his stomach whirl. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to face his friends and be fine after everything. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to face _Castiel_. He’s given it some more thought, and he feels like his entire view of the guy has changed. He doesn’t feel quite as annoyed when he thinks of him. Of course, it sort of makes sense. Castiel did save him, after all. But he also can’t think of Castiel without thinking of what happened. He doesn’t really want to have to deal with that. He knows he should just suck it up; it’s been over twenty four hours, after all. But he can’t.

He leaves his room as he pulls on a dark green flannel over a washed out, long-sleeved shirt. He walks slowly down the hall until he reaches the door to Sam’s room, and he knocks. “Time to get up, Sammy!” he yells through the door, and he can’t help but feel proud of himself for keeping his voice from shaking. He’s still able to hide how pathetic he is. That’s good.

The door opens a few seconds later, revealing a sleepy-eyed Sam with what looks like a bird’s nest of hair on his head. The sight makes Dean smile, and he likes the way it feels. He hasn’t smiled since Saturday. “It’s not even seven yet,” comes Sam’s voice, quiet and tired sounding. Dean rolls his eyes.

“You like to go to school early sometimes, you told me yourself,” he says, crossing his arms. Sam raises his eyebrows and squints.

“Sometimes. Sometimes, Dean. It’s a Monday.”

“And Monday’s a good day, so I’ll make some eggs.” He jabs Sam in the shoulder with his index finger. “And you better fix that nest on your head and come down in a few minutes.” He smiles a little wider, before turning to head downstairs to the kitchen. He hears Sam give an exasperated sigh.

“Jerk…” Sam’s voice mumbles. Dean chuckles slightly and yells back at him.

“Bitch.”

~~~

Dean skips second period Calculus on account of Castiel being in the same class. He’s not ready for that yet. He now sits down in third period Language Composition with a sigh, letting his bag fall to the floor next to his desk. He puts his head down and closes his eyes, waiting for the bell to ring for the start of class.

“What’s up, bitch?” he hears, and he shoots straight up, muscles going stiff. He sees Charlie standing in front of his desk. His body relaxes slightly, and his mouth morphs into a small smile. Charlie’s eyebrow moves up. “What’s got you all jumpy?” she asks, pulling out the chair from the desk in front of Dean’s and straddling it. Dean shakes his head slightly.

“Hey Charlie…” he mumbles in response. “Nothing. I’m just tired, you know? Long weekend.” He sighs, leaning forward slightly and propping himself up on his elbows. Charlie nods once, but doesn’t look convinced.

“You sure?” She leans closer as well, lowering her voice. “C’mon, I’m your best friend. What made your weekend so long?” She smiles. Dean swallows. He wants to tell her, but he knows he can’t. He needs to be strong. Besides, he can’t find the right words to say anyway.

“Just uh...a bad hangover. Went to a party, had a little too much to drink, you know how it is. Just me having fun and facing the consequences, heh.” He forces a bigger smile. Charlie shrugs slightly.

“Hey, I mean, as long as you take care of yourself, you have all the fun you want.” She laughs. Dean sighs and nods.

“I do.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“You didn’t drive, did you?”

“No! Charlie, I may be dumb, but I’m not _that_ dumb.”

“Just checking!”

Dean looks down, biting his lip. Another pause.

“Was there a certain girl at this party?”

“Charlie.”

“Just curious!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “There was no girl this time.” He sighs. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“How was your weekend? Any girls?”

Charlie grins. “Well, I played some D&D. This new campaign we started is really good so far. Pluuuuus…” She trails off. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Plus?” he echoes. Charlie giggles.

“There’s a new girl at the club. Jo. She comes to school here, and her mom owns that one bar, Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”

“And she’s cute?”

“Very much so.” She looks up. Dean rolls his eyes again, but smiles. It’s his second genuine smile of the day. And _God_ does he want to tell Charlie what happened. He knows he can trust her. But she seems so happy right now. He can’t ruin that. He can’t do that to her. He can’t do that to anyone. He needs to deal with this alone.

“Well I guess I should wish you good luck with that?”

“Oh, you better, Dean Winchester.”

Dean makes himself laugh. It doesn’t feel right when he does.

~~~

The bell for lunch rings, and Dean doesn’t have plans to eat. He makes his way towards the cafeteria, but someone cuts in front of him. He sees icy blue eyes and the messy dark hair and he swears under his breath. “Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, stopping right in Dean’s path. Dean is forced to stop. He looks down from those blue eyes and stares at his shoes.

“Hey...Castiel…” he mumbles. The memories from Saturday night are flooding into his mind. He’d remembered them before, but they feel more clear now. He can almost feel the hands on his back. He shudders.

“I didn’t see you in Calculus,” Castiel says, his head tilting in that owl-like manner again. Dean swallows hard, focusing on the words Castiel said and not the feeling of hands on him.

“I didn’t feel good. I’m okay now.” He forces a small smile, looking around, because he feels like someone is watching. Castiel nods.

“Are you alright?” he asks lowly. Dean blinks.

“I just said-”

“You know what I mean, Dean.” A moment of silence ensues as a group of students walks past right next to them. Then Dean clears his throat.

“That? Of course I’m fine, it was just somebody being stupid.” He shakes his head. “It’s not like anything happened.” He laughs, hoping he doesn’t sound nervous. Castiel hums quietly, and Dean nods.

“I’m glad you’re alright, then…” Castiel finally says. Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, ‘kay. Look, uh, I gotta go. Thanks for checking on me, I guess.”

“Of course.”

Dean bites his lip and looks down. “Do you know who it was? Who tried to...you know.”

Castiel shakes his head after a moment. “I didn’t get a good look. It was dark. I believe he did looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put the face to a name.” He sighs quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “It's fine." He looks around. "Okay, then. Thanks.” He walks past Castiel and keeps walking towards the cafeteria, sitting down just as Sam and Charlie arrive with their trays.

“There you are!” Charlie says with a smile as she sits down. Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, sorry. I had a few questions after class, so.” He looks down at a spot on the table. Charlie hums.

“That’s okay.”

Dean sighs.

“You’re not eating?” Sam’s voice says, and Dean looks up at him. His mind searches for an excuse.

“Nah. Had a big breakfast,” he finally says. Sam’s eyebrow shoots up towards his hairline.

“You ate like one piece of bacon.”

Dean purses his lips. “While you were watching. You don't know what I ate when you weren't.”

Charlie jumps in. “If you two start fighting, I’m gonna have to find another table.”

Dean rolls his eyes a bit, and Sam stabs his food with a fork.

“You find Jo yet?” Dean says after a moment, desperate for some form of distraction, as well as attempting to still be a decent friend despite everything he’s feeling at the moment. Charlie smiles, but slaps his wrist across the table. He holds back a wince.

“Not yet, but I intend to,” Charlie says. Sam looks at her.

“Who’s Jo?” he asks, stuffing a bite of food into his mouth.

“Silence, freshman,” Charlie retorts, playfully nudging him. Dean looks back down at the table, waiting for lunch to be over. Scratch that, waiting for school to be over. He wants to go back home and just sleep. Maybe he’ll dream of something nice enough to escape this world, even for just a moment.

“Dean? Helloooooo?” Charlie’s voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looks up.

“What?” he says quietly. He looks at Sam, who is looking at him with a strange expression.

“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asks slowly, and Dean’s heart drops at the question. He forces what must be the one hundredth fake smile of the day.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” He hopes he sounds convincing enough. He doesn’t want to come up with some excuse as to why he doesn’t feel good.

“I don’t know, man, you just seem...weird. You went to bed early and woke up early, and you’re just being kinda weird.” Sam shrugs. Dean rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine, Sammy. Really.”

“Okay…”

A pause.

“Don’t call me Sammy.”

Dean chuckles, almost genuinely. “Whatever you say, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed that shorter chapter. next chapter will hopefully be up soon! and will probably explain some more stuff. or maybe it won't. i might just make everyone wait, who knows.
> 
> anyways, i love charlie. have a wonderful day/night!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another kinda short chapter, but the next one will be longer, i promise
> 
> tws for self harm mention, rape/noncon mention

Dean has never been more thankful to be sitting in seventh period Psychology. Not only is it the last period of the day, but there’s a substitute teacher who barely looks older than most of the students, and he decided to give everyone the answers to the homework worksheet. He is now throwing paper airplanes and playing catch with pencils with some of the students in class. Dean’s sitting in the back corner, staring at his phone, counting down the minutes until the bell rings and he can go home. He looks up from his phone, eyes falling on the name of the substitute in purple marker. Mr Novak. Why does that last name sound familiar?

Dean looks over and sees Castiel across the room, also staring at his phone. He sees a paper airplane land on Castiel’s desk, causing him to look up. Mr Novak is grinning at him. He says something, and Castiel rolls his eyes. Oh. Right. Novak is Castiel’s last name. The substitute teacher must be his older brother or cousin or something. Dean looks back down at his phone. He’s not doing anything on it; he’s just staring at the lock screen. He tried playing a game or messing around in his settings, but he can’t focus. He can only think of hands and the time. Class is almost done. Ten minutes left. He looks up again, seeing Castiel walking over.

Shit.

Dean shifts in his seat, clearing his throat as he pockets his phone. Castiel sits down in the desk next to him, saying nothing for a long moment. Dean says nothing either.

“I apologise…my brother Gabriel is substituting today, and he was being irritating,” Castiel finally says, looking at Dean. His blue eyes pierce Dean’s soul.

“I uh...that’s fine,” Dean answers, forcing his eyes away to stare at the desk. There’s a moment of silence.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Castiel’s voice says, and Dean can hear him moving his chair a bit closer. Goddammit.

“Yeah, man. I’m fine.” He shrugs. Castiel hums. Dean shakes his head. “Why do you keep asking that?”

“You don’t seem like yourself.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

There’s a pause. Then Castiel speaks again. “For one, you haven’t even attempted to use the slightest bit of sarcasm nor aggressiveness towards me.”

Dean rolls his eyes, looking over. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you need me to drink my sass juice?”

Castiel smiles slightly at that, but continues. “You’ve also been uncharacteristically quiet.”

“I have not, I’m-”

“Usually, you would be down there. Tossing pencils and making airplanes.”

Dean looks at his desk again. Why does this guy know him so well? All they do is argue. It doesn’t make sense. Dean shudders and says nothing. He doesn’t want to deal with this, goddammit, why can’t he just go _home_ , why won’t Castiel leave him alone, why did any of this have to happen, why-

“You didn’t tell anyone, right?” Dean asks hesitantly.

“No,” Castiel’s voice says after a moment, “And I won’t.”

Dean nods, feeling relieved. He hopes Castiel means it. And he hopes he won’t change his mind. It feels strange, speaking to him without arguing. He almost hopes it stays this way. “Thanks, man.”

“Of course.”

“I mean it. Thanks.”

More silence, with the exception of the voices and laughs from the front of the classroom. Dean swallows, checking the time. Seven minutes. God, he just wants class to be over. He feels tired, his wrists hurt, and his back feels wrong; he can still feel the scattered memories of fingers along his back. He’s barely holding on, and he feels like he might break down.

Nope, never mind, he _is_ going to break down.

Dean stands up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over. He can feel his breath hitch in his chest, and his stomach starts turning. He runs out of the classroom, and he’s on the floor in a bathroom stall moments later. And then he’s crying, and he can’t stop. Once the initial crying starts, he can’t stop thinking. He thinks of how _wrong_ he feels inside, like something inside him has come loose. He tries to calm down, because he knows he’s being stupid. He needs to just suck it up, deal with it like a man, lock it away and never let anyone know that he’s even more messed up than before. _Why can’t he just deal with it?_

Someone comes in, and Dean’s hand flies to cover his mouth and nose. He hears footsteps, and he pulls his knees up to his chest with his other arm. The footsteps are slow, and Dean wishes them to go faster, wanting the person to just leave. The bell for the end of school rings, and Dean closes his eyes with relief. He wonders if the person is gone, but soon discovers they’re not.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice says, and Dean presses the hand over his tear-covered face down harder. His lungs are screaming for air, but he knows that if he lets himself breathe, it will be too loud. He won’t let himself be discovered. Not by Castiel, not by anyone. He wills Castiel to leave, mentally begging him to go. “Dean,” Castiel says again, and Dean is very, very close to running out of oxygen. He needs Castiel to leave. How did he find him in the first place? Did he follow him out of class? Is he just looking around for him? Dean hears the footsteps slowly walk away, and he finally moves his hand to gasp for air when he hears the bathroom door close.

He stays there for at least another ten minutes. When he finally stops crying and leaves the bathroom, he goes back to the classroom to retrieve his bag. Gabriel Novak is there when he does. He says nothing, but offers Dean a small, almost sympathetic look, and it makes Dean wonder whether Castiel told him about Saturday night or not. He remembers Castiel saying he didn’t and wouldn’t tell anyone, but if Gabriel’s his brother, maybe it’s different. He hopes that he’s wrong, that nobody knows except him, Castiel, and whoever tried to rape him.

Dean quickly leaves the classroom and goes to find Sam and Charlie so he can drive them home.

~~~

Charlie ends up deciding she wants to spend the day with Dean and Sam, so Dean drives directly to his house. They talk for awhile, during which Charlie reveals she found Jo and has her number. Dean congratulates her, and Sam looks slightly confused, but does the same. Charlie starts to tell Sam everything about Jo, and Dean zones out, because next thing he knows, they’re watching one of The Hobbit movies.

“I know these movies aren’t _nearly_ as good as the Lord of the Rings, but Tauriel can get it,” Charlie’s voice says, and it snaps Dean out of his own thoughts. He clears his throat, and looks up at the TV screen.

“Don’t say that in front of Jo, she might think you’ve chosen someone else over her,” Sam replies. Dean smiles ever so slightly and looks at Charlie, who rolls her eyes.

“I could never, Jo Harvelle is my queen.”

Dean decides to say something before someone calls him out on being too quiet. “God, you barely know this girl, and you’re already smitten,” he jokes. Charlie slaps his arm playfully.

“What can I say, I was born to serve my queen…” she begins.

“Ah, shit, don’t start.”

“To make my beloved happy...”

“Charlie.”

“And to love her forever.”

“Jesus, you’re so dramatic.”

Charlie giggles. “As I should be.”

“Guys, am I the only one trying to watch a movie here?” Sam cuts in. Dean rolls his eyes slightly, but falls silent, eyes on the screen. His mind once again wanders, reminding him of dizziness, of blaring music, of his face being forced into a wall, of hands on his body…

And of big blue eyes that saved him.

~~~

Dean starts slightly as he hears the front door open. The movie’s ended; the credits are rolling, and he stands up off the couch. His father walks into the living room a moment later. Dean’s stomach does a flip, half expecting his dad to somehow know what happened. He knows it’s not exactly likely, but he can’t help but be terrified of the notion. There’s a moment of silence as his father looks around. It makes Dean even more uneasy, and he feels ready to pass out.

“Hey, dad,” Sam says from behind Dean.

“Hey,” their father replies simply.

“Hi, dad,” Dean says quietly. His dad nods. There’s another moment of silence before he speaks again.

“Who’s this?” He smiles slightly at Charlie, raising an eyebrow curiously. Dean clears his throat.

“This is Charlie. Bradbury.”

His father smiles a bit more, and Dean knows what he’s thinking even before he says it. “Oh, I see...she your girlfriend?”

Dean wants to say no, because Charlie is not even close to being his girlfriend in any way, but he’s afraid for so many reasons, so he nods. “Yeah,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Yeah, she is.”

Dean’s dad chuckles. “Well, Sam and I won’t bother you anymore, then. C’mon Sam, let’s give your brother some time with his girl.” He motions for Sam to follow him out of the room. Sam looks at Dean with a strange expression, but says nothing as he leaves. Dean bites his lip.

“I guess I better get going, huh…” Charlie says, and Dean’s terrified that she’s angry with him. 

“Charlie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that...it just sort of slipped out,” he says as he walks her to the door. Charlie shakes her head.

“It’s okay.” They stop in the doorway.

“I just...I didn’t want him to think...I need to show him that I’m not…” Dean trails off. Charlie nods.

“It’s okay, Dean. I know. You didn’t want a repeat of last Thanksgiving.”

Dean nods, saying nothing.

“It’s been almost a year now. That's why you’ve been acting weird, isn't it?”

Again, Dean nods slowly. He feels tears stinging the backs of his eyes, and he looks down. He refuses to cry.

“Well, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean swallows hard. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“No problem, Dean.” She wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him tightly. Dean struggles to keep his breathing even, and he pulls away a few seconds later. Charlie gives him an odd look, but doesn’t question it. Dean’s thankful for that. “Take care of yourself, you dingus.”

Dean laughs slightly, and he loves the way it feels to actually laugh. “You too.”

“I mean it, Dean, anything you need, just text or call me.”

Dean swallows and nods. “I will,” he lies easily. Charlie smiles, taking his hand in hers and giving his it a small squeeze, before dropping it and heading out the door. Dean watches her go, before closing the door and going up to his room. He ignores whatever Sam says to him when he passes him in the hall, too busy thinking. Because Charlie’s right. It’s almost a year now since last Thanksgiving. And Dean doesn’t know how he’s gonna survive that on top of everything else that’s happening at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what happened last thanksgiving? well, you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out!
> 
> hope you enjoyed that chapter, have a great day/night!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a chapter with more explanation of what happened on thanksgiving, as well as the introduction of a new character! to clarify, italic and bolded text are things that happened in the past. comments and kudos appreciated <3
> 
> tws for self harm mention, rape/noncon mention, abuse mention, homophobia

**_Dean drove back home from school, the biggest smile on his face, and his best friend in the passenger seat of his Baby. Sam was at some science camp thing that was going to last two or three days, and their father was out of town. Dean had the house to himself._ **

**_“Turn the music down, you’ll go deaf,” Benny warned from next to Dean. Dean glanced at him and rolled his eyes._ **

**_“That’s the point, man,” he answered, before turning Led Zeppelin up slightly and singing along with the lyrics. Benny chuckled, and Dean grinned wider._ **

**_When they got to his house, Benny sat down on the couch. Dean put on some AC/DC, before sitting down next to them. “Wanna watch some Star Trek?”_ **

**_“Hell yeah, brother.”_ **

**_Dean’s smile faded slightly, and he cleared his throat. “Don’t call me that,” he said after a moment. Benny tilted his head in confusion._ **

**_“Whaddaya mean? Why?”_ **

**_Dean hesitated, before leaning in, and their lips met. Benny didn’t pull away, so Dean didn’t either. And they kissed a bit harder, and it felt great, and…_ **

**_“What the fuck is going on, Dean?”_ **

**_Dean pulled away at the sound of his father’s voice. He hadn’t heard the door open; the music had covered up the noise. He looked at Benny and motioned for him to leave. He did. Dean’s dad looked at him, eyes burning holes in his soul._ **

**_Neither of them slept that night. His father yelled at him until two in the morning. Said he didn’t raise him that way. Asked him if he was a fag. Told him this needed to stop. Dean fought him at first, argued until his voice was hoarse. But then his father hit him. It was the first time he’d ever done so, and it was the last time since. He asked Dean to promise to get over this, because no son of his would go around liking dick. And Dean did promise._ **

**_The next day, Dean saw Benny at school. Benny asked what happened, and Dean told him to leave him alone. They argued. When Dean left school that day, they were on bad terms._ **

**_The Winchesters moved away when Sam came back from camp. Dean never saw or spoke to Benny again._ **

~~~

  
  


Dean wakes up in the middle of the night, and he wakes up shaking. He doesn’t remember what he dreamed, but he can take a guess at it. He rolls over, gazing up at the ceiling in the dark. He takes a few deep breaths to try and keep his body from trembling like he’s out in the cold. He glances at the door, and memories of Castiel bringing him home flood his mind. How did he know where he lived? Of course, he and Sam get along pretty well, and they’ve studied together a few times since the beginning of the year, so maybe that explains it. But why did he do it in the first place? Why does Castiel still seem to care? Dean still doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know if he ever will. He really doesn’t deserve it.

He stares at the door until it’s time to get up for school again. He gets out of bed, and he feels dizzy when he stands. Probably because he hasn’t eaten almost anything since what happened. He considers staying home today, but talks himself out of it. He’s not a coward. He may be stupid and dirty and pathetic, but he won’t be a coward if he can help it. And right now, he can make it to school, so he will.

He ignores the slight spinning his head is doing and changes. He goes downstairs and makes coffee and eggs. He doesn’t eat, but he does drink coffee, because he really needs it right now. Sam comes down a while later. He says nothing as he serves himself eggs and some coffee. He sits down across from Dean and pokes at his eggs, before dropping the fork on the table. “Okay, what is up with you?” he asks, and Dean looks down at his cup of coffee.

“Nothing, Sammy, I’m fine,” he answers, taking a drink of coffee. It tastes bitter; he’s forgotten to put sugar in it. He’s not in the mood to do that, so he just puts up with it

“Dude, c’mon, we both know that’s not true, so just tell me.” Sam raises an eyebrow at him, and Dean looks at him. His jaw clenches.

“It’s nothing.”

“I’m your brother, Dean. You can tell me anything.”

Dean wants to, but he can’t. He needs to take care of Sam, and he won’t push his problems onto him. “It’s nothing, really, Sam, drop it,” he snaps. Sam’s brow furrows, and he looks worried, but then his expression turns to one of understanding.

“It’s close to Thanksgiving,” he says quietly. Dean says nothing, looking back down and the darkness of his coffee. “Shit, Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sam. Really. I just don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sam nods. “Right, that’s okay. We don’t have to.”

“And don’t tell dad.”

“I won’t, Dean. I promise.” A pause. “But if you ever do wanna talk about it, I’m here.” He smiles, and Dean finds it within himself to smile back.

~~~

As Dean is leaving Calculus, he feels something being shoved into his hands. He looks up to see the back of Castiel’s head in front of him, speeding out of the classroom. Dean blinks a few times, before looking back down at his hands to see a neatly folded piece of paper resting in his palm. He moves to the side of the hall once he’s outside of the classroom, and he opens the note slowly. It’s a phone number, and under it are the words, ‘Never hesitate to talk to me if you need it.’

Dean swallows as his eyes fall on Castiel’s name under the number and the message. He wants to cry, and he’s not even completely sure why. It reminds him of what Charlie said yesterday, and of what Sam said this morning. Why does everyone care so much about him? He really doesn’t deserve any of it. They’ll see that someday, and then he’ll be alone.

He walks to third period, and he doesn’t get anything out of the class at all. He doesn’t get anything out of fourth period, either. When the bell for lunch rings, Dean goes to the cafeteria. He, Sam, and Charlie talk. Charlie convinces Dean to eat her apple. They talk about Star Wars and the Lord of the Rings and Charlie’s D&D campaign, which quickly turns into Sam and Dean teasing her about Jo.

When lunch finishes, the rest of the day goes by in a flash. He doesn’t pay attention to any of the content the teachers are talking about. He can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes, before his mind drifts off and he’s thinking too much again. When the bell rings for the end of school, he’s about ready to pass out. He asks Sam to drive, because he doesn’t feel good enough at the moment. Sam thinks he knows what’s going on, so he doesn’t question why Dean is letting him drive his beloved car. But Sam doesn’t know the whole of it, and Dean decides he never will. He needs to be someone his brother can look up to, and if Sam knew about Saturday night, he wouldn’t look at him the same again.

After dropping Charlie off and getting back home, Dean goes back to his room. Sam doesn’t stop him. He sits on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. And he thinks even more. Of Benny, of what his father said, of Castiel and what happened Saturday…

And the ghost of the hands are back again.

~~~

Dean dozes off, and he wakes up with a start to the sound of a knock at his door. He takes a deep breath as he stands and moves towards the door. His dad is there when he opens it. He manages to keep the panic out of his face as he smiles slightly. “Hey, dad,” he says, keeping his voice smooth and even. His father nods.

“Hi, Dean,” he answers, and he doesn’t return the smile. Terror rises in Dean’s chest, but he keeps it down. “Can I come in?” his dad continues. Dean steps aside.

“Yeah, sorry.” He looks back into his room, only just realising how disorganized it is. “Uh...sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it tonight,” he mumbled. His father sighs as he walks into the room and sits on the bed.

“It is night.” He raises an eyebrow. Dean swallows, his face heating up with embarrassment. He can feel a lump forming in his throat, and he curses himself for it. He can’t do this _now_ , not in front of his dad.

“Oh. Whoops…” He chuckles nervously. “Guess I just lost track of the time.”

“Huh.” His father shrugs slightly, “Well, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am.”

Dean freezes. “You’re...what?”

“For getting over your problem. For having a girlfriend and getting past that phase in your life.”

Oh.

That.

Dean chuckles slightly, despite the twisting and turning his stomach is doing. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” If only he knew, if only he knew that Dean hasn’t gotten over it, if only he knew that his son still dreams of kissing boys sometimes, if only he knew that Dean was nearly _raped_ by a _guy_ -

“Really, Dean, it’s a big step. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, dad. It means…” Dean swallows, his stomach giving a particularly painful jolt. “A lot.” He finishes the lie with a smile that’s as big as he can manage. His dad smiles back, standing off the bed and placing a hand firmly on Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s heartbeat increases, and he forces himself not to jerk away.

“Good luck with that Charlie girl. She looks like a handful.”

Dean bites his tongue. He knows he should jump to Charlie’s defense, but he can’t deal with his father being angry at him right now, so he just nods. “Yes, sir.” 

His father gives another smile, before turning and heading out. Dean nearly collapses from relief as he closes the door behind him. He walks over to his bed and lets his body crumple against the mattress, pulling the covers over his body. He cries a little, then just stares at the door. He doesn’t bother putting on pajamas; he’s too tired. He falls asleep soon after.

~~~

The rest of the week goes by in a mix of fast and slow. Some days go by in flashes, while others go by in agonizing periods of panic and fear. The weekend is only slightly better than weekdays. There aren’t as many people watching, so that’s good. But there’s nothing for Dean to distract himself even remotely with, which leads to more panicking and more locking himself in his room for hours until he can stop crying. He considers texting Castiel sometimes in times like those, but he doesn’t. So Castiel’s contact just sits idle in Dean’s phone. Because god forbid he need help dealing with his problems. He’s managed to put off hurting himself since Wednesday, though, so he supposes that’s a good thing. 

But now it’s Monday again, and things are off to a great start. He missed first period after someone in the hall brushes past him and memories spark up in his brain. Second period goes slow, and Dean can’t help but stare at Castiel half the time, though he doesn’t know why, Castiel says nothing as they pass each other on the way out. When Dean walks into third period, there’s a kid he hasn’t seen before sitting in the desk behind his. It’s not unusual for kids to join school late, especially in a big school like Lawrence High School, so he doesn’t pay attention to it. He ignores the guy when he tries to introduce himself, instead sparking up a conversation with Charlie about the homework from last week. He catches the new kid’s name when the teacher asks him to introduce himself. Michael Shurley. He sighs as this Michael guy lists off two of his favourite things, before sitting back down.

The class continues on, and Dean hears something about essays and groups, but he’s not really paying attention. He feels a jab in his back, and he jumps slightly in his seat, before turning to see what poked him. Michael smiles at him. “Sorry. Just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Michael,” he says. Dean blinks.

“I heard,” he answers. Michael shrugs.

“Just wanted to make sure.”

Dean nods. “Right…”

“Didn’t catch your name,” Michael says, and Dean raises an eyebrow. Why is this guy being so nice? Not that he minds. He hates to admit it, but he kind of likes it.

“Dean. Winchester.”

Michael smiles. “Nice to meet ya, Dean. Sorry if this is kinda weird. You just seem like a cool dude, so.”

Dean smiles back. He’s not sure what it is, but something about this guy makes him seem trustworthy. So Dean’s almost being honest when he says, “Nice to meet you, too. I’m sure I’m not nearly as cool as you are.” He doesn’t know why he says it. Doesn’t know why he trusts him, either. But he can't deny that he feels glad to have another possible friend.

The essay and groups that the teacher was talking about ends up being a group paper about a work of literature that all members of the group enjoy. Charlie, Michael, and Dean get put into one group, and Dean can’t help but be relieved. He’s glad he’ll be working with people he can trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in one day, i really did nothing but write today. hope you enjoyed that chapter! have a lovely day/night!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for some more Dean in pain, followed by some comfort because he really needs some of that.
> 
> tws for: rape/noncon mention, slight suicidal ideation

“I’m gonna go visit Adam this weekend,” Sam says at lunch on Tuesday. Jo and Michael have joined their table today. Dean looks up from his untouched tray of food when he hears Sam speak.

“Tell him I miss him and wish I could come, but I have a lot of homework,” he says after a moment, and Sam pulls a bitchface.

“Dean, it’s Tuesday, you don’t know how much homework you’re gonna have.”

Dean sighs, not in the mood to argue. “I do. Leave it, Sam, I’m not going.”

There’s a moment of silence. Michael clears his throat from his spot next to Dean. “Who’s Adam?” he asks. Dean looks over and smiles.

“Uh...me ‘nd Sam’s younger half brother. Lives up in Minnesota. We try to visit him at least once a month. He’s a cool kid.”

Michael smiles back. “Not cooler than me, I hope?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” He pokes Michael with his fork. Michael chuckles. Dean looks over to see Jo and Charlie whispering about something. “What are you two conspiring about?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Charlie grins, and Jo giggles.

“We’re skipping next period, that’s all,” Jo says. Dean nods once.

"Right.” He smiles slightly. “Have fun on your date.”

Charlie rolls her eyes, and Jo just grins and kicks Dean’s legs under the table. For a moment, Dean forgets all his problems.

~~~

After seventh period, Castiel catches Dean in the hallway. They stare at each other for a moment, before Castiel clears his throat. “Um...I don’t want to be any trouble, but do you mind giving me a ride home?” he asks, and Dean says nothing. He just stares. Castiel continues after a moment. “Gabriel is sick today and he usually drives me home. I don’t have a car.” He shrugs slightly, tilting his head. Dean swallows. He nods after a moment, deciding he’s been getting better and that spending a few minutes in the car with Castiel won’t be a big deal.

“Sure, buddy. C’mon.” He leads Castiel to the spot where he usually waits for Charlie and Sam. Charlie appears a few minutes later, but Sam doesn’t come for almost half an hour.

“Sorry,” he says when he does arrive. He’s carrying three or four books in his hands that look like they collectively weigh more than Sam does. “Had to stop at the library and pick up some things.” He gives a sheepish smile. Dean blinks.

“I can see that,” he says, eyeing the books in Sam's arms. Sam nods, before his gaze turns to Castiel.

“Hey, Cas. What’re you doing here?” he asks. Castiel hums, and Dean shifts slightly at the sound.

“Hello, Sam. Your brother has agreed to drive me home,” Castiel says. Dean looks over at him, noticing a small smile on his lips. Dean also finds himself thinking that those are some pretty nice lips, but he pushes the thought away and looks back at Sam.

“I thought you and my brother didn’t get along,” Sam says, seeming almost suspicious. Dean rolls his eyes.

“We didn’t, Sammy,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. Sam sighs.

“Whatever you say, can we please go now? I...wanna get home and read my books.”

Dean playfully smacks the back of Sam’s head. “Nerd.”

The four of them walk out of the school and to Dean’s Impala. Sam pouts when Dean let’s Castiel ride shotgun instead of him. Dean rolls his eyes and ignores Sam’s complaints, simply driving out of the school parking lot and towards Charlie’s house first. Once he drops Charlie off, he asks Castiel where his house is. He sighs as Castiel recites his address.

“Dude, that’s pretty far away…” he says slowly, “D’you mind if I drop Sammy off at my place first? He seems pretty excited to have a makeout session with those books of his.” He shrugs. Sam gasps from the back seat.

“Dean! What the hell?” he exclaims. Dean shrugs.

“Hey, that’s pretty much what you do anytime you have a book. Plus you said you wanted to get home, so.”

“You’re a dick.”

“I know.”

Dean looks back at Castiel, mumbling a small apology. Castiel shakes his head and smiles. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” His blue eyes flicker from Dean to the road in front of them. Dean follows his gaze, turning a corner and heading towards his house. He drops Sam off, before making his way to Castiel’s house. Castiel says nothing, and the drive is almost completely silent. It makes Dean uneasy. The silence leaves his mind open to unwanted memories. He clears his throat after a moment, desperate for distraction.

“So. How you doing?” he asks. He hears Castiel shift in the passenger seat.

“I’m doing well, thanks,” comes Castiel’s answer. “You?”

“Peachy.”

Silence. Then, “Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” He doesn’t know why he uses the nickname. He’d just heard Sam use it, and now it just sort of happened.

“Are we still enemies?”

Dean blinks. “Dude, we were never enemies." He shakes his head. "We just didn’t get along.”

“I see.”

A pause.

“Do you want things to go back to the way they were before...the incident?”

Dean sighs, biting his lip. “Not really.” He swallows hard. It’s the truth, he realises. He likes it more when he and Castiel aren’t arguing. Besides, what’s the point in arguing after Castiel saved his ass? “I kinda like being on friendly terms.”

He glances over at Castiel, seeing those strangely perfect lips curl into another smile. “I do, too.” Castiel’s eyes meet his, and Dean turns his head to look back at the road so quickly he thinks he might have whiplash.

“Awesome. Friends, then?”

“Friends.”

~~~

When they arrive at Castiel’s house, Dean’s mouth hangs open slightly. It’s not a small house like he imagined Castiel would live in. It’s huge. And it looks really nice too. “Woah. Are you rich?” Dean asks without really thinking as he pulls into the driveway. Castiel chuckles.

“Well, not quite, it was my grandmother’s house that my father inherited,” he says calmly, and Dean looks over at him.

“That’s kinda awesome.”

“If you say so.”

The response makes Dean slightly confused, but he just shrugs, turning his gaze back to the house.

“Would you like to come inside?” Castiel asks after a moment. Dean blinks. He knows he just said they were friends, but he doesn’t know if he feels comfortable going into Castiel’s house. He doesn’t understand why he would be uncomfortable about it; he just feels uneasy. But he makes himself nod.

“Sure,” he says, looking down. “If that’s okay with your parents.”

Castiel shrugs. “My parents aren’t here at the moment. They’re on a business trip in London.”

Dean swallows. That somehow makes him more uneasy, and he still doesn’t understand why. “Oh. Okay, then. I guess I’ll come in for a second. You sure you’re okay with-”

“Dean. Why would I invite you in if I wasn’t okay with it?”

Dean swallows and nods, looking down. Castiel seems nice, but he terrifies Dean at the same time. He doesn’t want him to be angry. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

Dean nods again, biting back another apology. He shuts off his car and follows Castiel into the house. "Just be quiet, Gabriel's probably asleep upstairs," Castiel says. He leads Dean to a large kitchen. “Do you want some coffee or tea or something?” he asks, and Dean shakes his head. He’s not thirsty, and he doesn’t want to put Castiel through the trouble of making something just for him. He really doesn’t deserve that.

“No, thanks.”

Castiel nods, motioning for Dean to follow him. Dean doesn’t have a good reason to argue, so he follows Castiel up the stairs and to what Dean assumes is his room. The first thing Dean notices is how neat the room is, closely followed by the huge rainbow flag hanging above the bed. Oh. For some reason, this makes Dean’s stomach twist. He can’t say why; he’s not his father. But something about the time of year and the fact that it’s Castiel’s room that contains the flag makes Dean feel strange. 

Castiel must notice him staring at the flag, because he steps in front of Dean. “Is there a problem?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, and it makes Dean shudder.

“No, sorry. I just didn’t...expect you to be...I don’t know. I’m sorry, you’re fine,” he mumbles. Castiel cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re nervous.”

Dean forces a laugh. “Heh, am I? Sorry.” He swallows. Jesus, this guy can be intimidating. “Really, it’s fine. I don’t care if you’re into guys or something, I’m cool with it.” His father’s words from last year echo in his head, and he struggles to keep his breathing level. Why is he thinking about this now? “Look, I gotta go.” He cringes as he realises how that sounds. “It’s not because of you, I promise. I just gotta go.” What would his father say if he knew what happened Saturday? What is Dean going to do if he finds out? He feels dizzy suddenly, and he realises his breathing is turning into short bursts of gasping for air. No, no, God, no, please, not now, not now, not now, _not now_ -

“Dean?” Castiel’s deep voice says, but Dean can’t look at him. “Dean, just calm down, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the voice assures, and Dean tries to listen. He tries to take a deep breath, trying to keep from panicking. He’s on his knees now, staring at the floor, which seems to be swirling. He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to cry on top of all this. “Dean, take a deep breath.” Dean does try, and he manages to do it. Kind of. “Now hold it.” He doesn’t know what else to do, so he listens, despite his lungs trying desperately to get air. “Let it out slowly.” He does, as slowly as he can. “Good, again. Breathe in...hold...breathe out.”

Dean obeys what Castiel says, repeating it over and over until he can breathe normally again. He finally dares to open his eyes when he does, and he sees Castiel is sitting on the floor in front of him. God, why? Why does Castiel always end up seeing Dean at his lowest points? It’s not fair. In Castiel’s eyes, he must have no dignity left.

“Are you okay?” Castiel says softly, and Dean looks down. He nods slightly, not meeting Castiel’s eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” Dean starts, “I swear that wasn’t because of you, it wasn’t, it was just…” He bites his lip. “Can I tell you something…?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so eager to spill his heart out. But he needs to tell someone something, or else he knows he might be dead before the end of the year. He’s in a low moment right now, after all. This is just a desperate act of weakness. And he can’t stop himself.

“Yes.”

“You can’t tell anyone. No one. Ever.”

“I won’t.”

Dean swallows. “It’s just that...about a year ago, me and my ex-best friend kinda started...well, I kissed him. I just wanted to know what it was like, I guess. I don’t know. I just know that I don’t like boys, so I don’t know why I did it.” The last part is a lie, but he will never admit that. “Point is, my dad walked in on us, and he got really pissed off about it. He yelled at me and called me names and shit, and it’s just. I don’t know. We moved away after that. It’s getting closer to being one year since then, and that on top of...what happened Saturday...it’s just kind of a lot.” Dean takes a deep breath. “I don’t know why I want to tell you any of this. Maybe because you already know about the rape thing so it’s easier, but I don’t know.” He sighs. “I’m just sorry. I shouldn’t have broken down, I just can’t help myself sometimes.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Dean’s terrified that Castiel is judging him. He knows that he should, but he also hates the idea of it. Then, that gravelly voice breaks the silence. “It’s okay, Dean. I understand,” Castiel says softly. “You don’t ever have to apologise for breaking down or having problems. And you never have to deal with those problems alone. I’m glad you told me, and I will attempt to help you in any way I can.” 

Dean looks up slowly, finally meeting Castiel’s eyes again. He feels as if there was something in his chest that has been taken away. He almost feels lighter. “Thank you…” he whispers. Castiel smiles.

“Of course.”

Perhaps today isn’t as bad as most days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deancas is slowly starting to formulate 👀
> 
> school starts again tomorrow, so i don't know if i'll be able to update as often as i have been, but we can hope! have a fantastic day/night <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn, this is one hell of a heavy chapter. i've had it planned from the beginning, and it was pretty hard to write, so here we are.
> 
> tws for attempted rape/noncon, suicidal ideation
> 
> be careful and stay safe, lovelies <3

Dean and Castiel don’t mention Tuesday afternoon the rest of the week, though they do talk. They talk about homework, mostly; they have most of the same classes, albeit different periods, and since Dean hasn’t been able to focus well recently, it’s helpful. Castiel explains most anything Dean doesn’t understand. Except Calculus. They both suck at that. When they’re not talking about homework, they’re trying to find things in common. Which so far is almost nothing. They like different movies, different books, different music. They get into a discussion about attractive actors at one point, and their taste varies there as well. Primarily because Castiel is into indie movies and guys, and Dean is into 80s movies and girls. Or at least, he’ll only ever admit he’s into girls. Dean quickly changes the subject when he begins to think of that.

On Friday, after second period, Dean offers Castiel a spot at their lunch table. Castiel shakes his head. “No, thank you,” he says, and Dean feels bad for asking until Castiel adds, “I have lunch fourth period, not fifth. If we had the same lunch period, I would gladly sit with you and Sam.” That makes Dean smile. He really can’t help it, and quite honestly, this week has been going better than the week before. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll be okay.

“Okay, awesome,” he says as they walk down the hall, “I’ll see you seventh period?” he asks, stopping near his locker. Castiel stops as well and nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

“Yes, I’ll see you seventh.”

And he does.

~~~

Charlie and Michael come over on Saturday to finish their group essay. Sam leaves directly after school for Adam’s, because it’s an eleven hour drive. Dean reluctantly hands him the keys to the Impala. He’s hesitant because Sam’s only just gotten his license, and the drive is long. Usually, Dean’s the one who’s driving, but he really doesn’t think he’ll be able to manage that now. He trusts Sam enough, but does threaten to murder him if he gets so much as a scratch on his Baby. Sam rolls his eyes at that, waving goodbye to Michael and Charlie, before he drives off. Dean sighs as they walk inside and sit down in the living room on the floor.

“Okay, bitches, so we got like half an essay, and this is the last time we’ll be able to get together to finish it, so no distractions,” Charlie orders, and Dean nods.

“Yes ma’am,” he jokes, and Charlie pulls a pencil out of her bag to throw at him. Michael laughs. After a few pencils and erasers being tossed back and forth, they finally get to working on their paper. Once they finish, they eat some grilled cheese sandwiches and talk about aliens. Then Charlie tells them about her date with Jo, and reveals they’re going out again tomorrow. Michael congratulates her and Dean teases her with something cheesy, but eventually congratulates her as well. An hour or two later, Charlie stands up.

“Welp, this has been fun, but I gotta fly,” she says, “I gotta get home before dark, and since Sam took the car, I gotta walk. Takes about half an hour.” Dean stands up as well.

“D’you want us to walk with you?” he asks. Charlie shakes her head. 

“Nah, I’ll be good. Thanks.”

“Text me when you get home.” They share a quick hug.

“Only if I feel like it,” she answers as she pulls away. “Bye, Michael.”

“G’bye, Charlie,” Michael answers, smiling gently as he waves. She waves back, and Dean walks her to the door. He closes it behind her, before walking back to the living room.

“You’re gonna have to wait until my dad gets back in his car so I can drive you home,” he says, sitting on the couch next to Michael. Michael nods.

“That’s okay,” he says, smiling.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Star Trek?”

Dean’s heart skips a beat. “Oh. Uh...maybe something else?” he asks after a moment.

“I thought you liked Star Trek?”

“I do. I did. It’s just…” He takes a deep breath. He remembers how well it went when he told Castiel about what happened on Thanksgiving. He thinks of how he trusted Castiel, and how he trusts Michael. And he makes a decision. “Can you keep a secret?”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “What, are we gonna play truth or dare next?” he jokes.

“This is serious, Michael.”

Michael’s brow furrows and he nods. “Sorry. Yes, I can keep a secret.”

Dean swallows. “Okay, Thanksgiving is coming up in like a week and a half.”

“Yeah?”

“And around this time last year, my dad caught me and my best friend Benny kissing.” He bites his lip. “I’m not gay, by the way. I was just experimenting.” That’s kind of a lie. “Anyways, didn’t blow over well. Dad called me slurs, you know. We moved away.”

“I’m...sorry…” Michael says after a moment. “What does this have to do with Star Trek?”

Dean sighs. “It’s what we were gonna watch before I kissed him.”

Michael nods. “Okay…” He smiles slightly. “We don’t have to watch Star Trek. You can choose something else.”

Dean smiles back. “Thanks, man. Really.” He takes a deep breath, and again he feels that feeling of something being lifted from his chest. He feels lighter. He looks at the TV and starts looking through Netflix. He ignores the first time it happens. It's just a quick brush of Michael's hand against his, hardly intentional. Dean keeps looking through their choices of movies. But then he feels Michael's hand brush along the back of his neck, and as hard as he tries to ignore that, the hand is soon running down his chest and resting between his legs. He turns his head quickly to look at Michael, pushing his hand away "Dude, what the hell?" he mumbles. Michael only smiles, leaning forward and catching Dean's lips. Dean pushes away almost immediately. "Michael, what the hell are you doing?" Dean demands, inching away. Michael grabs the front of his shirt, and Dean's chest fills with enough panic to make him momentarily paralyzed.

"What, don't you remember that it was me?" Michael says, leaning closer. "We almost had so much fun before that sonuvabitch Castiel Novak got in the way..." He grins, and realisation washes over Dean along with a wave of dread. No. It can’t be. Not Michael. Michael’s so nice to Dean, such a great friend. Michael can’t be the guy from the party. He can’t be the owner of the hands. But as Dean shakes his head, Michael only nods, that awful smile still on his face. Dean pulls out of Michael's grasp and stands up off the couch, turning to run away. Michael grabs his legs and brings him down to the ground. Dean screams as he's flipped over, and Michael straddles his stomach. There's no one in the house to hear.

"Stop, get off!" he yells as loud as he can, trying to hit Michael and push him away. But Michael's knees pin Dean's arms to the ground. "Stop it..." Dean's voice is shaking now; he's on the verge of tears. One of Michael's hands comes over Dean's mouth. 

"Shhh, just relax, Dean." He runs his other hand down Dean's chest, and that sends Dean over the edge. He starts crying. Michael leans down so his face is inches from Dean's. "You're so pretty when you cry for me..." He kisses Dean's forehead. Dean has never hated himself more for crying. He tries to kick Michael’s back, but his current position doesn't let him kick hard enough. It's going to happen. Oh God, it's going to happen. Dean whimpers, and Michael closes his eyes and rolls his hips against him. All the air leaves Dean's lungs. This can't be happening, this has to be a dream. But when Dean squeezes his eyes shut and tries to wake up, Michael's still there. Dean starts struggling again, and he gets one arm free. Maybe this won’t happen, maybe he can stop it. Michael removes his hand from his face only to slap him. Dean cries out, but he keeps struggling and hitting blindly at Michael with his one free arm. He has to keep fighting, he can't let this happen. Dammit, why is Michael so heavy?

“Stop moving,” Michael demands, pulling a switchblade out of his pocket and pressing the blade against Dean’s neck. Dean stops squirming for just a moment, before struggling again. Knives don’t scare him. Neither does death. Michael rolls his eyes and tosses the blade aside. "Fine, the knife not good enough for you? How’s this? If you keep struggling, I'll tell your dad and Sam about it.” Dean freezes at that. ”I'll tell the whole school, too. And maybe I’ll find a way to tell that half brother of yours." Dean shakes his head. Michael continues. "I'll tell your dad that you begged for it, that you just couldn't help yourself, and I, being the good friend that I am, decided to go with it." He hits Dean again. "I'll tell that to your dad if you don't stop struggling. I know you could probably get free eventually, Dean. But you’re not going to. You’re going to let me do this, or I’ll tell everyone."

Dean's stomach twists at Michael's words. "Y-you wouldn't..." he says as steadily as he can, though he doesn't know how much he believes it. Michael chuckles, grabbing Dean’s arm and pinning it back under his knee.

"Wouldn't I?" He leans close again. "Try me. We'll see what everyone's talking about tomorrow at school. We'll see what little Sammy thinks when I tell him about Saturday, tell him you're too weak and pathetic to stand up for yourself. We'll see what daddy thinks when he finds out his son was going at it with a boy again." He pauses, and Dean regrets telling Michael about Thanksgiving. "Don't think he'll be as forgiving as he was with good ol' Benny." Dean closes his eyes again, wanting nothing more than to die now.

“Michael, please, you’re not...you don’t have to do this, please…” He hates that he’s begging, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“You’re right, I don’t have to. I just really, really want to.” He laughs, a sound that Dean once welcomed now turned sour and horrid. "Are you gonna let me?"

Dean swallows.

He opens his eyes and sees Michael staring back at him.

He knows he needs to say no.

He knows he might be able to get Michael off if he tried hard enough.

But he can't.

He can't let Sammy know.

He can’t let Charlie and Jo and everyone else know.

He can't let dad know.

So he nods slowly, tears streaming silently down his face.

"Yes."

It never actually happens, because Dean’s father opens the door, and Michael gets off Dean so quickly that it feels like he’s evaporated. Michael’s standing, and Dean forces himself to do the same. He wipes off his face, hoping he doesn’t look too much like he’s been crying. He nearly falls back over because his legs feel like paper, but he keeps himself upright as his father walks into the living room. “Hey, Dad…” he says, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “You just missed Charlie, she left about ten minutes ago…” He swallows hard, trying to force a smile.

“Well, I hope you invited her over for dinner sometime,” his dad says after a moment, and Dean is thankful that he doesn’t seem to notice he’s been crying. “And this is…?”

“Michael,” Michael introduces himself with a smile. “Dean, Charlie, and I had an English project.”

“Yeah…” Dean says, “Can I borrow your car to take Michael home?” He bites his lips, trying to keep from starting to cry again. His father nods.

“Sure.” He tosses the keys at Dean, and Dean barely manages to catch them with how much his hands are shaking.

“T-thanks, dad. Seeya later.” He’s out the door before his father can say anything else. Michael is close behind, getting in the passenger side. Dean gets in the driver’s seat and tries to get the key into the ignition, but his hand is shaking too much. Michael’s hand is on his a moment later, guiding his hand. Dean wants to pull away, but he also just wants to get the drive over with and never see Michael again, so he just leaves it. “Where’s your house?” he asks shakily, avoiding Michael’s eyes. Michael doesn’t answer for a moment, moving his hand from the keys up to Dean’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He leans towards him and whispers his address in Dean’s ear, and Dean backs out of the driveway. He feels Michael’s hand move down to his thigh, before squeezing again. Dean yelps, jumping slightly and moving to push Michael’s hand away.

“Shh, Dean, just drive,” Michael says, and Dean does, because the threat Michael made is bouncing around in his mind. So Dean tries not to flinch. He tries not to flinch when Michael squeezes his thigh again, tries not to pull away when Michael leans over and kisses his neck, tries not to make a noise when Michael bites down.

Dean feels ready to pass out when they finally reach the house. Michael’s hand leaves his leg. There’s a moment of silence. “Thanks for the ride,” Michael says finally, turning Dean’s head towards his and kissing him, before pulling away. “And if I don’t see you at school Monday, everyone knows.” He smiles, before opening the door and leaving the car. Dean shudders as the door closes. And then he’s crying again.

~~~

When he gets home, he doesn’t say goodnight to his father. He ignores when his dad calls after him. He goes directly to the bathroom, and he throws up anything and everything in his stomach. He then goes to his room, and he ignores the knocks at his door. He just cries and cries until he has no tears left. It’s past midnight, and Dean can’t think of anything else except the threat. And God, he just wants to _die._

His phone’s in his hand before he can stop himself and he looks through his contacts. He scrolls down to Sam, but he can’t call him. He asks too many questions. He scrolls up to Charlie, and he nearly calls her. But he hesitates. Charlie doesn’t know the whole of it. She thinks it’s all because of what happened last year, and she wouldn’t understand. He finally taps Castiel’s contact. He knows he’s being selfish; it’s late, and Castiel is probably sleeping. He shouldn’t wake him up. But he knows he won’t get through the night if he doesn’t. So he hits call, and he waits as the phone rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry, i promise things will work out for Dean eventually, but i have so much more planned for this fic that needs to happen first, so i apologize. have a beautiful day/night <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short little chapter because Dean needs some comfort before things go bad again. bolded text is the other side of the phone conversation!
> 
> tws for suicidal ideation, slight rape/noncon mention

It occurs to Dean as the phone rings that he hasn’t called or texted Castiel in the past, so Castiel doesn’t have his number. As the ringing goes on and on, Dean’s heart drops lower and lower. Castiel might not answer if he doesn’t recognise the number. He might just ignore it. He probably will. Dean bites his lip and closes his eyes. This must be the end. The phone against his ear won’t ring for much longer. Castiel’s not going to answer. He’s done for.

**“Hello?”**

Dean opens his eyes slowly at Castiel’s rough, groggy sounding voice coming from the phone. He swallows, trying to find words to say. He doesn’t know if he feels relieved or afraid. Maybe it’s a mixture of both. He just knows he wants to cry again.

**“Um. Hello?”** comes the voice again, and Dean opens his mouth.

“Cas,” he manages to breathe out. There’s some sort of rustling on Castiel’s end, like he’s sitting up in bed.

**“Dean?”** Castiel says softly, and Dean nods even though he knows Castiel can’t see. **“Dean, what’s wrong?”**

Dean takes a deep breath, forcing himself to smile and joke around. “Who says something’s wrong? Does something need to be wrong for me to talk to my friends?”

**“It’s two thirty in the morning.”**

“What better time to have a conversation?”

**“Dean.”**

Dean says nothing in response.

**“What’s wrong.”** It’s more of a demand than a question. Dean’s stomach turns, and he takes a deep breath.

“I’m just not doing so hot,” he says after a moment, even though that doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. He hears Castiel hum.

**“What happened?”**

“Uh…” He tries to come up with a lie, because he can’t risk Michael finding out he’s told someone. “Just. It’s been two weeks since...the thing. I don’t know.” He sighs shakily. “I’m sorry.”

**“Sorry for what?”**

“For calling so late. Or early. Whatever you wanna call it.”

**“You don’t need to be sorry.”**

“I do.”

**“No.”**

Dean bites his lip, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence. And Dean can’t help it. He starts crying again.

**“Dean…”** Castiel’s voice says gently, and Dean doesn’t know why it’s so soft. Or how. Castiel’s voice is so deep and rough sounding, like seawater crashing against rocks. And yet it’s soft. **“Is there anything I can do? Anything you want to talk about? I’ll listen.”**

“No,” Dean chokes out. “I don’t wanna talk about this shit. I don’t want...aghhh…” He’s angry. Angry at Michael for doing this and putting him in a position where he can’t tell Castiel what happened. Angry at himself for not dealing with it like a man. For wanting to cry about it and die instead.

**“It’s okay, Dean. Deep breaths.”** Castiel’s voice remains soft, and Dean bites his lip. Neither of them say anything for a moment.

“Cas…”

**“I’m here.”**

“Talk to me. Please, just talk to me about something.”

A pause. Then Castiel speaks again.

**“What about?”**

Dean shakes his head. “Anything, just...your voice is nice.” He curses himself for saying that out loud.

**“Alright.”**

Another pause.

**“Do you enjoy stars?”** Castiel says. Dean makes a strange noise.

“What?” He says. Castiel continues.

**“Is it okay if I talk about the stars.”**

“Yeah, man. Anything.”

**“Okay.”** Dean hears Castiel take a deep breath. **“When I was young, I had an immense fascination with stars. With anything related to the universe, really. I remember buying several books about the universe and space exploration, and I still remember many of the things I’ve read.”** He pauses, and Dean closes his eyes, pretending he’s right there with him. **“For example, when a star goes supernova, it releases about ten times ten to the forty-fourth joules of energy. That is as much as the total energy output of our sun throughout its** **_entire_ ** **lifetime.”** Dean waits for him to continue, squeezing his eyes shut tighter to keep tears from falling. **“Now picture a thousand, a million of these supernovas. Picture how much energy there would be. Can you see it in your mind, Dean?”** Dean hums gently. **“Now understand that the vast amount of energy all those supernovas would create is infinitesimal compared to how much courage you have by facing this.”**

Dean opens his eyes. Why is Castiel saying that? Why is he lying to him? “No, shut up.”

**“You’re so strong, Dean.”**

“I’m not. I’m weak and pathetic and disgusting. Can’t even take care of myself.” He means every word.

**“No. Everyone needs help sometimes, Dean. That doesn’t make you weak. You are strong. I see it. And one day you’ll see it, too. You’ll make it through this.”**

Dean’s lip quivers and he cries harder. If Castiel is lying, he’s good at it, and Dean doesn’t know what to say to any of it. Castiel gently calms him, shushing him softly and eventually beginning to hum a song Dean doesn’t recognise. But it sounds beautiful. _Castiel’s voice sounds beautiful._

“That was so fucking cheesy,” Dean says when he can finally talk again. He hears Castiel chuckle through the phone at his ear.

**“Did it help at all?”**

“Yeah. A little.” Dean swallows. “God, Cas, there’s...there’s just a lot more I wanna tell you, but I just can’t.” His stomach twists as he thinks of Michael, and he almost throws up again, but manages to swallow it down.

**“I wish you would tell me, but I’ll wait until you’re ready. I won’t force you to say anything.”**

Dean swallows, letting silence fill the atmosphere. “Can...you...stay on the line? Just until I’m asleep…?” he says after a long time. There’s a short pause, before Dean hears a hum. 

**“Okay.”** Another pause. **“Sleep well, Dean. I’m glad you called me.”**

Dean sighs. “I’m glad I called you, too. Night.” It’s surprisingly not a full lie. He doesn’t want to die nearly as much. A part of him has some sort of hope again. He knows it might not last long, but he’s going to hold onto it for as long as it lasts.

He falls asleep, and he dreams of nice and beautiful things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, a short chapter, but the next one will be longer and probably a lot angstier, so hold onto your hats! have an awesome day, lovelies <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another angst-heavy chapter, here we go...
> 
> tws for suicidal ideation, rape/noncon

Dean doesn’t open his eyes when he wakes up on Monday. He doesn’t open them when he hears footsteps on the stairs. He doesn’t open them when he hears a knock at the door. He doesn’t open them when he hears Sam’s voice from the other side of the door calling his name. He finally does open them when he hears the lock on his door clicking, and he curses himself for ever teaching Sam how to pick locks as he sits up. Sam opens the door a second later.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean mumbles, running a hand over his face. Sam rolls his eyes.

“We’re gonna be late for school,” he whines, and Dean sighs. He looks at his alarm clock.

“We won’t,” he says, even though school starts in twenty minutes and it’s a fifteen minute drive. He just really doesn’t want to go. He knows he has to, though, so he stands up.

“We will, come on, Dean.” Sam grabs Dean’s arm and tries to pull him towards the door. Dean pulls away.

“Jesus, alright, I’m coming,” he snaps, leaving Sam looking slightly confused. Dean picks a jacket up from off the floor and pulls it on. “Let’s go.” They walk downstairs and out to the car. They get in, and Dean starts driving.

“Faster, please,” Sam says a few moments later. Dean groans in frustration.

“Shut your face, Sammy, you’ll get us in an accident.” He keeps his eyes on the road, trying to stop his mind from wandering. “How do you have so much energy? Didn’t you just get back from Adam’s like three hours ago?”

“I’m just not you,” Sam answers matter-of-factly, and Dean glances over as his little brother pulls a book from his bag.

“Ha ha, very funny.” Dean forces a sarcastic tone as he speaks, then looks back at the road. His mind still tries to wander. He needs to focus on the road. Or quite honestly anything to keep him distracted at this point. His brain is filled with memories of Michael. Michael, all over. Dean’s starting to think he wouldn’t mind getting hit by another car right now, truthfully, if Sam weren’t in the car.

“Dean, you missed the turn,” Sam’s voice says, snapping Dean out of his head.

“Sorry…” Dean mumbles, taking the next turn to get back on track.

“Are you okay?” Sam asks slowly. Dean groans.

“Jesus, why does everyone keep asking that, I’m fine! I’m just tired, okay? Like you _should_ be, with all that driving you did.”

“Hey, I have motivation.”

“Good for you, Sam, good for you.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “Sorry for asking then, jeez.”

Dean bites his lip. “Okay, then.”

Another stretch of silence, before Dean hears Sam gasp. “Is that a hickey?” Sam asks, tapping the spot on Dean’s neck where Michael left his work. Dean jerks away so hard he nearly turns the car into the next lane. A car honks the horn at them.

“Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” A pause. “I just...did you seriously not come to see Adam because of some girl?”

“No!”

“Then why-”

“Sam, for fuck’s sake, just shut up!”

Sam goes quiet, and when Dean glances at him, he’s staring straight forward. His bottom lip shakes slightly, and Dean sighs. 

“Shit, Sammy, sorry…” he says quietly. Sam shakes his head.

“‘S fine,” he says, and his voice shakes. Dean feels sick.

“I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry, I just-”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’ll be quiet now.”

The rest of the ride is driven in silence.

~~~

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t look up when Castiel speaks to him near the end of second period. He just gives a nod. “Hey, Cas,” he says softly.

“Are you alright?”

Dean scoffs quietly. “I wish people would stop asking that.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure. After the night you called…”

Dean swallows, and he feels ready to cry again. “I’m better. Not good, but better.” He can’t tell if he means it or not. Castiel hums, and that causes Dean to look up and meet those glacier blue eyes.

“Can I suggest something?” Castiel says after a moment. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Have you tried therapy?”

Dean scoffs, and if he weren’t feeling how he is at the moment, he might’ve laughed. “Therapy? Really?”

“It might help.”

“Are you being serious right now?” 

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together, and he tilts his head slightly. “Did I say something that suggested I was joking?”

Dean rolls his eyes slightly, but his heart’s beating faster than before. Maybe Castiel is right. Maybe he does need help. But therapy? The notion is terrifying. Besides. He doesn’t have the money for therapy. Even if he did, his dad wouldn’t approve. Guys don’t need therapy. Guys know how to deal with their own problems. Alone. _Deal with it alone._ “Look, man, I appreciate the thought…” He really does. “But I’m fine.” Lies. “I just need some time.” More lies. “And if I need to...talk to someone, I got you.” He hopes. “Right?”

Castiel seems hesitant to answer. “Of course, Dean. You always have me. But you need to understand that I can’t help you with everything. I just think that-”

“I’m not gonna talk to some stranger about my goddamn problems, Cas, just let me deal with it.” Dean bites his lip, hating how harsh the words sound as they come out of his mouth. “Please,” he adds softly. Castiel sighs heavily. Dean watches him as he waits for an answer. An answer he doesn’t receive. The bell rings, and Castiel turns. He walks back to his desk and grabs his bag, and then he leaves. Dean watches, wanting to say something, but not knowing what or how. So he just stands and leaves as well, trying to ignore the guilt in his stomach from snapping at both Sam and Castiel, and the dread in his chest as he heads for third period where he knows Michael will be waiting for him. 

~~~

Dean hates the way his body wants to go slack when he walks into the Language Composition classroom. He hates the way his hands begin to shake when he sees Michael. And he hates the way he can’t breathe when he finally forces himself to sit at his desk. He stares forwards, willing time to go by faster. He feels fingers running down the back of his neck, and he leans forward to get away from them. “Hey, Dean,” Michael says, and the sound of his voice makes Dean shudder. He refuses to turn and look at him, so he just nods.

“Michael,” he acknowledges, unable to keep the shaking out of his voice. Michael notices.

“Don’t be scared,” he says quietly. “Someone might notice. We wouldn’t want that” He leans closer, and Dean can hear and feel his breath against his neck. He feels sick.

Charlie walks into class and waves, and Michael leans away. Dean wants to wave back at Charlie, but he can’t move. Charlie comes and sits down in her spot in front of Dean. “Hey, losers,” she says as she walks up, and Dean forces as much of a smile as he can.

“Hey,” Dean hears Michael say from behind him, and then he feels Michael’s hand come down on his shoulder. It’s an innocent gesture to anyone watching, and that’s what sends Dean over the edge. _No one else knows what it means._

And no one _can_ know.

He stands up and makes his way as quietly as possible out of the classroom. He makes it to the bathroom just as tears start pouring down his cheeks. He locks himself in one of the stalls, leaning back against the wall and staring at the ceiling as he cries. He cries as silently as he can, and he makes no move to leave when the bell rings for the start of third period. He hears the door open a few moments later, and he holds his breath, hoping to God that whoever just walked in doesn’t hear him.

“Dean?” comes Michael’s voice, and Dean nearly collapses. “C’mon, Dean, I know you’re in here. Open the door.” 

Dean doesn’t want to. He’s never not wanted to do anything more. But he knows that Michael has the power here. He knows that he knows everything, and that he’s going to tell if Dean doesn’t do what he wants. So he unlocks the stall. Michael’s on him almost immediately after. He hears the stall lock again with both of them inside. He feels himself backed against the wall. And Michael’s kissing him like there’s no tomorrow. Dean hates it.

He closes his eyes tightly as Michael kisses him more, forcing him back harder against the side of the bathroom stall. He can barely breathe. But he doesn't push Michael away. Not when he slips his tongue inside Dean's mouth. Not when he starts kissing down Dean's neck. Not when his knee wedges itself between Dean's legs. Dean just keeps his eyes closed and takes it. Because he needs to be a role model for Sammy. Because he needs to be strong for dad. Because no one can know. Because he must've done something to deserve this, anyway. So he bites his lip hard as Michael slides his hands under his shirt and marks up his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter so he doesn't cry anymore. Squeezes his eyes shut until he sees stars.

"God, you're so beautiful," Michael mumbles in his ear. Dean whimpers quietly. He can't help himself. Michael groans. "And you make such pretty noises." The hands under Dean's shirt begin rubbing over his nipples, and Dean wants to disappear into the wall. "You like that, don't you?" Michael pinches and Dean yelps. "Say you like it."

Dean says nothing, keeping his eyes closed. He feels Michael's hand hit him across the face, and the knee between his legs pushes harder and higher. Dean hates himself for making a noise.

"Look at me and tell me you like it."

Dean swallows, opening his eyes slowly and forcing himself to look Michael in the eye. "I-I like it," he whispers, disgusted at how quiet it comes out. Michael smiles, and his hands keep working under Dean's shirt.

"Good boy," Michael says quietly, and his hands move lower. Dean shakes his head and starts to breathe faster, panicking, and Michael shushes him. He then forces Dean to his knees, and again, Dean just lets it happen. Because he's too pathetic to stand up for himself. Because this is the only way to keep everyone from knowing that. Michael’s hands leave from underneath Dean’s shirt. Dean closes his eyes again when he hears a zipper being undone, and his heart drops into his stomach when he feels Michael’s hand on his jaw. “Open up,” Michael says lowly. Dean shakes his head as best as he can, and then the hand is pulling at his hair. “Open up or I talk,” Michael whispers, and Dean swallows hard. He can’t let Michael tell everyone. _He can’t._

So he opens his mouth.

~~~

Michael leaves Dean alone when he’s finished, and Dean sobs until the bell for the end of third period finally rings. Then he just sits there, curled up on the bathroom floor. His mind keeps replaying what just happened, over and over until he thinks he’s going to pass out. He throws up twice instead. He eventually stumbles out of the stall moving to the sink and letting the water run. He stares down at it for a moment, before leaning down and drinking some. And then more. And more and more until the bitter taste in his mouth is gone.

He rinses out his mouth three times after that for good measure.

By the time he’s finished, he’s crying again, and when he finally makes himself stop, the bell for the end of fourth period rings, and he trudges towards the bathroom door. He heads back to the Language Composition classroom to grab his bag, earning an ugly look from the teacher, before he makes his way slowly to lunch. He wants to see Sam. He wants to see Charlie. He wants to see Jo. But Michael will be there, too, so he goes as slowly as he can. He sees Castiel in the hall, and they share a look. Castiel nods gently at him, and Dean wonders what he means by that. He doesn’t have the energy or ability to think of it right now. 

Everyone is already seated when he arrives. Jo and Charlie are feeding one another little bites of each other’s food, and Sam is looking through some book on sign language. Michael is the first to notice Dean’s arrival, but he says nothing. Sam notices soon after.

“Dean!” Sam says, sounding almost surprised. Charlie looks away from Jo to see Dean.

“You’re alive!” Charlie says with a smile, and Dean swallows. He wishes he wasn’t.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alive,” he says, and his voice sounds hoarse. Either from the crying or from Michael having his way. Or both. Probably both.

“You sound like shit, are you okay?” Sam asks quietly, leaning a bit closer as Dean sits down.

“I’m okay, Sam. Just...needed some space. I’m okay now.” He forces a small smile. Charlie hums as she stuffs a fry from today’s lunch in her mouth.

“Yeah, Michael told us you weren’t feeling too great and you needed alone-time,” she says. She then stands up and moves over to where Dean is sitting, hugging him tightly. “I’m glad you’re better now.”

Dean swallows, glancing at Michael, who’s staring at him. He knows the hug from Charlie is supposed to be comforting, but he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, so he carefully pulls Charlie’s arms off of him. His brain is screaming at him. His throat hurts. His body feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. “Yeah. Definitely better now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry, i promise things will get better for Dean eventually, but not yet. have an extraordinary day/night <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some comfort in this chapter...
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention, self harm mention

Dean drives Castiel home again; apparently Gabriel had to leave early. He drops Sam and Charlie off first at his house, because Charlie wants to hang out with them. Dean says he’ll be back after dropping Castiel off, and now they’re together in the car. Neither of them has said a word. Castiel is the one who eventually breaks the silence.

“There’s something you should know,” he says. Dean glances at him.

“Yeah? What?” he asks. Castiel turns, and their eyes meet for just a moment, before Dean tears his gaze away.

“I think I know who did it.”

Dean tenses up. “Who did...what?”

“Who attacked you. At the party.”

Dean swallows. “Uh...okay?”

Castiel nods. “It’s the guy you sit next to at lunch. I think. I can’t be sure, because it was dark that night, but I believe he looks familiar.”

“M...ichael?” Dean says slowly.

“I think so. Michael Shurley. I know why he looked familiar. His parents are friends of my parents. I’ve seen him a few times. Not since we moved here four years ago. But it seems his family has moved here as well.”

Dean nods slightly, biting his lip hard. “It’s not him.”

There’s a pause, before Castiel speaks again. “Are you sure? I’m fairly certain he was the guy from the pa-”

“It’s not him,” Dean insists, because he can't risk Michael finding out if Castiel knows. “He’s a friend, he couldn’t do that, it’s not him. Drop it.”

Castiel says nothing for a moment, and Dean glances over. He sees Castiel staring out the window.

“How are you doing, Dean?” Castiel says after a few minutes, and Dean forces his eyes to roll.

“I thought I said I was tired of people asking that,” he mumbles in response.

“You did. But today you seem off. You seem...almost sick. Your voice sounds strange,” Castiel answers gently, and Dean clears his throat a bit.

“Yeah, I'm kinda sick.”

Castiel hums. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment where only the roaring of the car engine can be heard around them.

“Cas, look, I appreciate you trying to help me.” That’s true, more than Dean can say. “Maybe the therapy thing wasn’t as bad an idea as I made it out to be.” He still can’t pay for something like that, though. “But I’m fine.” Lies, “Really, I just need some time to…” He trails off, because he doesn’t know what he wants to say. Time to figure this out? Time to make it stop? Time to  _ adjust _ ? He doesn’t know.

“I understand,” Castiel says, his voice impossibly soft. “I just wish you’d tell me things instead of waiting until they get really bad first.”

Dean makes a face. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he says, biting his lip.

“I think you know, Dean. You say you’re fine. And then you call me at two in the morning.”

“Come on, man, that was one time.”

“That’s not my point. I just mean that you shouldn’t let things pile up like that. It’s not healthy.”

Dean manages to scoff. “Shut up.”

“I mean it. Of course, you can always feel free to call me at two in the morning. I’m always here for you. I just wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

“I do take care of myself.” Dean nearly laughs at himself as he says it. He truly doesn’t do well taking care of himself. He hasn’t eaten much in the past few days, and he’s already planning on hurting himself once he gets back home. Not that he’d ever tell Castiel that. Or at least, not yet.

“If you say so,” Castiel says with a sigh, and Dean nods.

“I do say so.”

They don’t speak again until they arrive at Castiel’s house. Dean pulls into the driveway and stops the car, looking over at Castiel. “Well, here you are, Cas,” he says. “Home sweet home.” He forces a smile. Castiel smiles back, and Dean’s heart beats faster for some reason.

“Thank you, Dean,” he replies, and Dean’s stomach twists slightly. He waits a moment, but Castiel doesn’t get out. Dean shifts and clears his throat. Why isn’t he leaving?

“Uh...d’you need something else?” he asks slowly, and Castiel tilts his head.

“You can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Dean swallows thickly, and for some reason he shuts off the car. The words make something in him come loose, and he wants to cry again. He has a feeling he won’t be leaving quite yet. “Yeah, buddy, I know.” He looks down, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel. God, why does he want to cry again  _ now _ ?

“Good. Don’t ever forget that.”

Dean only nods, his lower lip quivering slightly.

“Dean...can I ask you something?”

Dean nods again. “Shoot,” he says, only just keeping his voice from breaking.

“Where did these come from?” Castiel reaches a hand over and motions towards Dean’s neck. Dean flinches. He knows what Castiel is referring to. He wants to disappear.

“N-nowhere. None of your business, really,” he answers, and his voice trembles. And then he’s shaking. And then tears are coming down his face again. And he’s crying for what feels like the hundredth time today. He’s burying his face against Castiel’s shoulder before he can stop himself. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over as he weeps. He feels Castiel’s arms around him, not too tightly, but not quite loose, either. It’s just right, and Dean wants to melt.

“Shhh, it’s okay, you don’t need to be sorry,” Castiel murmurs gently. And Dean starts  _ sobbing _ . Castiel continues to talk to him, to reassure him, and he never once raises his voice. When Dean’s lungs get enough oxygen to speak again, he speaks against the fabric of Castiel’s shirt.

“‘M sorry, Cas, you...you were right, he...it was Michael, it was always Michael and he came back and...he made me trust him and then he came to my house and he-” He gasps for air, sobbing with his whole body. “And he cornered me in the school bathroom, and he...he made me-” He can’t finish. His voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper when he speaks again. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Dean, you didn’t do anything,” Castiel whispers. Dean shakes his head furiously, pulling away from Castiel suddenly.

“No, I couldn’t stop him. I tried and I couldn’t stop him the first time, you had to come save me, and then I couldn’t stop him after ‘cause he said he’d tell dad ‘nd Sammy and I can’t…” He pauses, shaking his head again. “They can’t know, no one can know, please, Cas, no one can know…”

Castiel nods. “I won’t tell them. I promise.” He gets out of the car and moves to the driver’s side, pulling open the door and holding out his hand. “Let’s go inside.”

Dean swallows and shakes his head, but ends up taking Castiel’s hand and letting himself be led into Castiel’s house. He closes his eyes at some point, just letting Castiel lead him to wherever they’re going. He nearly trips on what he assumes are the stairs, but he refuses to open his eyes, not wanting more tears to fall down his face.

“Dean, it’s okay, you can open your eyes. You’re safe,” Castiel’s voice says when they come to a stop, and Dean feels obliged to obey. He’s met with the sight of the rainbow flag in Castiel’s room. Castiel leads him over to his bed and sits him down. He leaves the room, which makes Dean panic for a moment, but then he returns with a glass of water in his hand. He hands it to Dean, before sitting on the bed next to him. Dean takes as much of a sip as he can as he cries, before handing it back to Castiel, who sets it on the bedside table. “Is there anything else I can do?” Castiel asks quietly. Dean shakes his head, still sobbing. He calms down after what seems like hours.

“Sorry,” he finally says with a sniff, not looking Castiel in the eye. He feels Castiel shift next to him.

“It’s okay,” Castiel replies.

“It’s not. I’m sorry I’m bothering you.”

“You are  _ not _ bothering me, Dean.”

Dean swallows. He tentatively leans closer to Castiel, who welcomes the gesture by wrapping an arm gently around him. Dean closes his eyes. “Can...I stay...for a while…?” he asks sluggishly.

“Yes, Dean. You can stay as long as you need,” Castiel responds. Dean nods, pulling away slightly as his stomach starts to twist.

“Can you please...let go…?”

Castiel immediately does so. Dean nods again to thank him. “Do you want to rest?” Castiel’s voice says in that gravelly-soft way. Dean opens his eyes a bit, before nodding. Castiel continues. “Take off your shoes.”

Dean obeys.

“Now lie back and close your eyes.”

Again, Dean does so. He’s too tired to argue.

“I’m going to go, is that alright?”

Dean tenses up, suddenly afraid of being alone. He is filled with the irrational fear that Michael will find him, that he’ll force him to do more things. But he nods, and he hears Castiel get off the bed.

“I’ll come to check on you later.”

Dean nods again. “Thank you,” he whispers. He can almost feel Castiel’s eyes on him, almost feel the smile.

“Of course. Find me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Dean can’t help but repeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that was a bit of a shorter chapter, but oh well. have a marvelous day/night <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another kind of shorter chapter with a little more comfort.
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention, suicidal ideation, self harm mention

Dean falls asleep, and when he wakes up again, it’s dark. He forgets where he is for a moment, sitting up so fast that he feels dizzy. He realises he’s in Castiel’s room a few moments later, as well as that he’s been covered by the blankets on the bed. He’s confused as to how for a moment, but then he understands. Castiel. Of course. As if on queue, the door opens, and Castiel’s silhouette appears in the doorway. Dean starts slightly, and Castiel freezes. They stare at each other for a moment, and then Castiel is walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Dean shifts away, forcing his gaze down to the space between them on the bed.

“You were asleep when I came up earlier,” Castiel says softly. “How are you feeling?” He shifts on the bed, and Dean looks up again. All he can see in the dark are those blue eyes, almost as if they’re glowing. He clears his throat slightly.

“Good. Better,” he says simply, though it’s far from the truth. He still feels pathetic. He still feels disgusting. He still feels ready to die.

“Are you sure?” Castiel asks, as if reading Dean’s thoughts. Dean swallows hard, and he decides he has nothing left to lose.

“No, Cas,” he confesses, and his bottom lip starts quivering again. “I feel like shit.” His voice shakes, but he manages not to cry. Castiel hums quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean shakes his head, scoffing slightly. “Definitely not.”

“Do you...want some time alone?”

“No, please don’t.” Dean takes a deep breath. “If you leave, I might try and find a way to kill myself…” He forces a bit of a laugh, tries to play it off as more of a joke than it is, but he can’t keep his voice from trembling.

“Christ, Dean…” Castiel says, inching a bit closer and reaching out for Dean’s hand. Dean flinches a bit, but he doesn’t pull away. Castiel’s hand feels warm and soft against his.

“I know.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“God, no. Please just...I won’t do it. I want to, but I know I’m too much of a coward.” He swallows. “I just really...I don’t want you to leave.”

“I won’t, Dean. If that’s what you want, I won’t.”

Dean nods. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods in return, and Dean thinks he sees a smile on his face through the dark. It’s comforting in a strange way.

“Do...are you gonna sleep now?” Dean asks after a moment.

“If you promise me you’ll wake up tomorrow,” Castiel replies.

“I already said-”

“Just promise me, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “Okay, Cas. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Dean moves to get out of bed, but Castiel squeezes his hand.

“What are you doing?” he says, and Dean raises an eyebrow.

“I thought...you said you were going to bed.”

Castiel nods. “Yes. But I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Dean scoffs. “Cas, you’ve already done so much, man, I’m not gonna take your bed, too.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Dean Winchester, you’re staying in the bed. I’ll kick your ass.”

Dean gawks slightly. “Fine,” he says after a moment. “Fine, I’ll take the bed.” He lies down, and Castiel finally lets go of his hand. He hears Castiel slide off the bed, then watches as his silhouette moves towards the closet and gets out some other blankets. He watches as Castiel spreads them on the floor. He watches as Castiel disappears onto the ground, hears the blankets rustling on the floor. And then he turns his gaze to the ceiling and he falls asleep thinking of blue eyes.

~~~

The next day, Dean wakes up to see Castiel watching him. He starts slightly at the sight, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Cas…” he mumbles, though he feels almost relieved that Castiel has been watching him. He almost feels safe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Castiel says, looking down. Dean bites his lips, wishing Castiel would look at him again, because for some reason he wants to see his eyes again.

“It’s okay, you just spooked me.” He shrugs a bit, still looking at Castiel. Castiel looks up at him, and they stare for a moment. Dean feels relieved to see the icy eyes again.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Castiel asks, a small smile painting his features. Dean swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest for an unknown reason that is really getting on his nerves. Goddamit, what’s happening? He decides to ignore all that for now. He has enough to deal with.

“Sure,” he manages to let out, before he remembers what day it is. “Wait.” He glances around, searching for a clock in the room. “Wait, we have…we need to go to school. We’re gonna be late.”

Castiel’s head tilts in that owl-like way, and Dean’s breath catches for just a moment. “It’s okay, Dean. We don’t have to go. I don’t think you should.”

Dean shakes his head, ignoring the way his eyes are stinging with tears. “No, you don’t understand, I gotta pick up Sam and…” He bites his lip. “Michael will tell my dad I’m...that he and I...went at it if I don’t show up. He’ll tell Sam, and I…”

Castiel hums. “Dean, I’ve called Sam. Charlie’s foster mother is picking him up and dropping them both off before she heads to work. You need rest.”

“Shut up, Cas, please just...please. They can’t know. Sam looks up to me, I can’t disappoint him. And my dad…” He shakes his head. Castiel nods once.

“Okay, Dean. I understand.” He steps closer and reaches out to put his hand on Dean's shoulder. “We’ll go to school. But you’ll tell me if you need anything, okay?”

Dean nods, blinking away tears. “Yeah, okay.”

~~~

He drives Castiel to school in his car, and Castiel once again assures him that he can tell him if he needs help, before they go their separate ways. Dean stares at his desk throughout the entirety of first period. He knows his grades must be atrocious at the moment, but he doesn’t have the time or energy to check or even care. He makes it to second period just as the bell rings, and he thanks every deity he can think of when the teacher tells them it’s a day to catch up on missing work, because it means that he can sit next to Castiel under the guise that they’re working on getting Dean up to date on his assignments. Lots of other students stand and move around as well, but Dean is one of the first to move and sit down in the desk next to Castiel. Castiel looks over at him.

“Dean. Are you doing alright?” he asks quietly, and Dean shakes his head.

“I…” His jaw clenches. “Michael’s gonna be in class with me next period,” he whispers, looking down. He can’t go, but he can’t not go either. He doesn’t know what to do. He just wants everything to go back to how it was before. It wasn’t perfect. There were still bad days. He still hated himself to the point that he would hurt himself sometimes. But things were better. He didn’t want to die nearly as often as he does now. He didn’t want to disappear forever.

“It’ll be okay, Dean,” Castiel assures him gently, leaning a bit closer. “Don’t let him get you alone. He most likely won’t do anything if there are people around.”

Dean shakes his head. “He’ll find a way, Cas, he-”

“Dean, he won’t.” Castiel places his hand on Dean’s arm. “Stay with people. If you need to be alone, tell me where you are, and I’ll find you. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

Dean swallows. “Okay…” He nods. “Okay.”

Castiel nods back, giving Dean’s arm a small squeeze. Dean looks down. They say nothing for a moment, before Dean clears his throat. He needs a distraction, or else he's going to break down again. He can feel the damn tears coming back.

“Can we please talk about something?” he says quietly, his voice wavering. “I’m...I don’t wanna think about this right now.”

Castiel hums. “Yes, of course.” He pauses. “Have you heard what the school play is going to be this year?”

Dean shakes his head, and he can’t help but smile ever so slightly. “No, I didn’t. What is it?”

Castiel smiles back. “Clue. I was thinking of auditioning, though I’m not quite sure. Either way, it would be fun to watch.”

Dean sighs, looking up at him. “Yeah. Yeah, it would be.” And for the smallest moment, he feels almost okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you waiting for Michael to get what's coming to him, i promise that happens very soon...
> 
> have an extraordinary day/night!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy, here it is, one of the moments y'all been waiting for...
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention, self harm mention, suicidal ideation, some violence

Dean’s heart is pounding in his ears all throughout third period, but he manages to keep it together. He repeats Castiel’s words over and over again in his head, trying not to think of anything else. _‘Stay with people. If you need to be alone, tell me where you are, and I’ll find you. I won’t let him hurt you again.’_

_‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’_

It’s the only thing that gets Dean through the period. Because he believes Castiel. He trusts Castiel with everything right now. Castiel gives him hope, and is the only thing he can hold on to. Castiel is his anchor. So he focuses on nothing more than Castiel’s words, his voice, his lips when he speaks…

_‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’_

  
  


~~~

The bell for the end of fourth period rings all to soon, and Dean feels wrong. _God,_ he doesn’t want to go to lunch. He’s spent enough time with Michael, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive. He knows he’ll either have to run off somewhere alone or cry in front of everyone, and he won’t do the latter. He wants to go home. But he can’t do that either. He can’t do anything. Michael’s in control of his life now, and Dean hates it. He hates it more than anything. But here he is. Walking out of fourth as the bell rings, making his way down the hall, exchanging a slightly reassuring look with Castiel, and then sitting down at the table in the cafeteria, listening to Charlie and Jo not-so-subtly flirt, watching Sam read his book, and feeling Michael’s eyes on him the entire time. It makes Dean feel sick, but he tries to keep reminding himself of what Castiel said.

_‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’_

“...yeah, Dean stayed at Castiel’s place last night,” Sam’s voice says, snapping Dean out of his own head. Dean turns his head and glares.

“Sam!” he hisses, shaking his head slightly at his brother. Sam gives him a confused look.

“What?” he says, and Dean’s stomach twists because he knows Sam truly doesn’t understand.

“He was just tired, Sam, he didn’t wanna drive back home,” Charlie pipes in. “Leave him alone.”

“I didn’t say anything, I just said he stayed at Castiel’s!” Sam retorts, rolling his eyes and looking back down at his book. Dean swallows hard, stealing a glance in Michael’s direction. Michael is staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Dean feels ready to throw up. And he realises he needs to be alone. He panics, because he knows Michael will follow him wherever he goes, and then he remembers.

_‘I won’t let him hurt you again.’_

So he pulls out his phone and texts Castiel.

‘i need to be alone’

He swallows hard, standing up and making his way past the other tables in the cafeteria, because he _needs to get out of there_.

‘i’m in the bathroom closest to cafeteria’

He walks into the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror, and he waits. His reflection stares back at him. The sight of himself makes him feel worse. His phone buzzes, and he reads Castiel’s reply to his texts.

‘I’m on my way.’

Dean sighs from relief, pocketing his phone and gripping the sides of the sink with both hands. He tries to take deep breaths as he waits, and he hears the door open seconds later. He looks up, expecting blue eyes and pink lips, but he sees Michael instead. His heart drops into his stomach as Michael strides over to him and backs him into the wall.

“You and Castiel have fun, acting like two star-crossed lovers in the night?” Michael growls, one hand wrapping around Dean’s throat. Dean shakes his head frantically.

“No,” he whimpers, “No, it’s not like that, it’s not-”

“Don’t lie to me, you little slut...” Michael’s grip tightens on Dean’s neck, and Dean gasps, only to have Michael’s other hand clamped over his mouth. “You’re mine. Only mine.” Dean’s eyes roll back slightly as Michael bangs his head back against the wall. “I don’t share my things.” Dean’s ready to pass out. “So tell Castiel to get lost, or _I’ll tell him myself_.”

Suddenly, Dean can breathe again. He gasps for air, collapsing to the bathroom floor in a shaking pile of pain. His head hurts from being slammed against the wall. His vision is blurring, and his ears are ringing. He manages to look up after a moment, and he sees Castiel. He looks like a literal angel right now, the lights in the bathroom ceiling shining from behind him and giving him an almost ethereal glow. Or maybe that’s just Dean’s concussed brain playing tricks on him. Either way, Castiel is _here._ And he saved him. And…

And he gets pushed against the wall by Michael. A mirror shatters, and the noise sounds strange as Dean’s ears continue to ring. He thinks he cries out Castiel’s name, but he can’t be sure. He just watches as Castiel pushes Michael off of him, before hitting him. Michael hits back, and they’re in a full blown fist fight now. Dean’s terrified that Castiel is going to lose. He doesn’t know why. He tries to tell himself it’ll be fine, but he can’t, and he eventually has to look away. He closes his eyes and waits for the sound of punches landing and crashing to stop. It seems to go on forever, before he hears a cry, followed by what he thinks is Castiel’s voice saying something. Then the voice gets louder, and he realises Castiel is coming closer.

“Dean,” he finally hears clearly, and the ringing in his ears diminishes ever so slightly. He pries his eyes open, and he sees Castiel looming over him. The blue of Castiel’s eyes looks darker, like a storm has swept over them. And yet, they still seem to be the most comforting thing in the world right now. Dean swallows, already feeling tears stinging his eyes and threatening to fall. He can’t say anything; he doesn’t know what he would say if he could. Castiel seems to understand somehow, because he speaks again. “He won’t hurt you anymore. And as far as I can tell, he won’t tell your father or Sam for now. I’ve arranged for my family and his to have dinner this weekend, and I’ll tell his father then what he’s done. His father will deal with this, but he won’t be able to hurt you again. And your father and Sam don’t have to know. I promise.”

Dean only nods. He’s sobbing at this point, and he wants to say something, to let Castiel know just how thankful he is. But he can’t. He just wants to go home.

As if reading Dean’s thoughts, Castiel helps him off the ground and half carries him out of the bathroom. Before he knows it, they’re at Dean’s car, and Castiel is asking him for the keys. Just like the Saturday night where all this started. Dean shakes his head.

“They’re in my bag,” he manages to breathe out after a moment, “Left it at lunch.”

Castiel nods. “I’ll be right back, Dean. I’m going to take you home.”

Dean nods slowly, sobs still shaking his entire body. His ears are ringing less, but his head still feels strange. Castiel leaves, and Dean closes his eyes, because he doesn’t want to be alone. He imagines Castiel is still there with him, and he opens his eyes when he hears the Impala unlock and Castiel’s voice speaking again.

“It’s going to be okay, Dean.”

Dean gets in the car, and he tries to believe Castiel’s words. If he’s saying them, they must be true. But Dean can’t get himself to believe it completely. He still feels wrong. He still feels revolting and pitiful. He still hates himself with everything in his body.

He still wants to die.

They’re soon at Dean’s house, and Castiel helps Dean inside. He helps Dean up to his room, into his bed, helps him take off his shoes, and Dean feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu. How many times has Castiel helped him like this? Dean can’t help but wonder why again. Why does Castiel care? Why does he want to help him?

He still can’t understand it. He doesn’t think he ever will.

~~~

A few hours later, Dean’s managed to settle down. Castiel drove back to school and picked up Charlie. Sam went over to a friend’s house after school, so it’s just Dean and Castiel. They’re sitting in the kitchen. Neither of them has said a word in what feels like forever. Dean’s head feels better now; it hadn’t been as bad as it felt. He's started to notice that Castiel's face is bruised, but he doesn't comment on it. He just stares down at his cup of coffee that’s probably cold by now. He doesn’t really care.

“Are you sure...that Michael won’t...that he won’t tell anyone?” he finally dares to say. Castiel looks at him from across the table.

“I threatened to tell his father if he did,” Castiel responds. “Of course, I will anyway.”

Dean nods. “And...that’s enough to make him stop?”

Castiel hums. “From what I recall, Michael is very loyal to his father.”

“Okay...but what if his dad doesn’t believe you? What if he thinks you’re making it up and-”

“Dean, his father knows Michael is a bit…morally incorrect in several ways. He’ll believe it.” He reaches over the table and places his hand on Dean’s. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Dean meets Castiel’s eyes for a moment, before looking down at their hands. He pulls out of Castiel’s reach. “Don’t do that,” he says quietly. Castiel nods slightly.

“I’m sorry. I won’t,” he replies softly.

~~~

After Castiel leaves, because Dean asked him to, Dean avoids speaking to anyone. He doesn’t speak to his father when he comes back with Sam. He ignores them both, staying in his room. When it starts to get late, he can’t sleep. He lies awake all night, staring at the ceiling. He starts crying a few times, because he can still feel it all. He can still feel every place where Michael touched him, every spot where he kissed him. He can still _taste_ him in his mouth.

He gets up to vomit in the bathroom at that point.

When it’s finally morning, Dean refuses to get out of bed. He trusts Castiel enough to believe that Michael won’t say anything yet, so he doesn’t bother going to school. He just lies there. His father asks him why he’s not going, why he has to drive Sam instead of Dean, and Dean just says he feels sick. It’s not technically a lie. The house is empty now. Dean’s sitting at the foot of his bed, staring at the door. The fact that Michael may no longer be a problem is some comfort, but he knows that somehow, this isn’t over. It may never be over. Dean might never be able to forget the hands, the kisses, the _pain_. It might stay with him until he dies, whenever that may be.

He can’t help but cover his arms in red lines that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, there's that. there's the end of something, but definitely not the end of this story. there's much more to come, so stay tuned...
> 
> have a fantabulous day/night <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some comfort for my baby because he truly needs it.
> 
> tws for suicidal ideation, suicide mention, rape/noncon mention, self harm mention, homophobia

It’s almost three weeks later when Dean sees Castiel again. Thanksgiving comes and goes, and Dean hates every moment of it. It’s like a little cherry on top of all his other problems. When it passes, he still doesn’t go to school. Him and Castiel text. Of course, he texts Charlie and Jo as well. But mostly Castiel. At first, it’s just about how the dinner with the Shurleys went. According to Castiel, Michael’s dad took him out of school and has planned to move out of state. Then it turns to Castiel asking Dean if he’s okay every morning and every night. Dean usually tells him the same thing: he’s not okay, but he will be soon. He hopes if he says it enough, he might actually believe it. Until then, he says it almost automatically.

After that, they just text about anything. Castiel was suspended for three days after his fight with Michael, but he caught up on work quickly. So sometimes he tells Dean what he missed in Calculus and Psychology, and other times, they talk about different things. Anything, really. Anything except what really bothers Dean. Anything except the hands and the kisses and everything else. Castiel asks Dean if he can come over to talk about it every once in a while. Dean always says he’d rather not, because he’s not ready. It’s hard enough to relive the memories of what Michael did most of the day. He doesn’t want to _talk_ about it. And Castiel never pushes, never asks why. He just accepts it with an ‘Okay :)’ and then changes to a different subject. Dean has no idea what he’s done to deserve someone as understanding as Castiel.

Dean’s father is quite a bit less understanding. He gets angry with Dean after the first week, keeps asking him why he won’t go to school. Dean tells him the same thing every time, too: that he feels sick. It’s still not really a lie. Dean doesn’t eat much, and he throws up half the time he does. His dad doesn’t buy it, though. He yells at Dean almost every night, telling him he needs to go to school. Dean just listens, making no plans to do so. He hates to disappoint his father, but he can’t go back. He just can’t.

The morning of the Saturday that marks five weeks since the start of this whole thing, Dean’s sitting in the living room, staring at his phone. He’s waiting for Castiel’s text. He’s made a habit out of that. His dad thinks Dean’s texting Charlie at the moment, and Dean pretends not to hear the mumbled remark that goes something along the lines of ‘at least you’re not uneducated _and_ a faggot’ as he walks by and out the door. The comment makes Dean hate himself more than he currently does. So he just stares at his phone, waiting. And he feels relieved when he gets the long awaited text.

‘Good morning Dean. How are you today?’

Dean smiles as he reads it, typing his reply.

‘hey, still feeling meh, but i’ll be fine’

He taps send, glancing over the back of the couch to make sure his dad’s definitely gone for the day. Castiel’s reply comes moments later.

‘Anything I can do?’

Dean bites his lip, hesitating. He thinks about the past few days. He knows he hasn’t been getting better. He doesn’t want to die as much, so that’s good. But he still feels awful all the time. He still can’t sleep without dreaming of what Michael did, and he can’t be awake without thinking about it. He still cuts to try and feel better, but he’s starting to think that only makes him feel worse. He needs to say something. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll last if he doesn’t. Castiel is the only one he trusts. So he types his reply.

‘i think i’m ready to talk about it, come over?’ 

His knee bounces slightly as he awaits the response. And he’s beyond relieved when he gets it.

‘Of course. I’ll see you soon.’

Dean shuts off his phone and half-tosses it onto the coffee table, staring up at the ceiling. And he waits.

~~~

They’re sitting on Dean’s bed, and neither has said a word since Dean let Castiel into his house.

“Sorry…” Dean says after a moment. “I just...I don’t know where to start.” He forces a half-hearted chuckle. Castiel looks at him, and Dean’s heart starts pounding when their eyes meet, though he couldn’t say why. Maybe he’s afraid.

“It’s alright,” Castiel says, “Take your time.”

Dean nods. “Do I just...I don’t know, I don’t wanna...make you feel weird or something.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Dean, don’t worry about me. If you think that telling someone will help you feel better, I’m here to listen. To anything.”

Dean sighs, looking down at a pair of dirty socks in the corner of his room. “O-okay.” He shudders slightly, thinking of Michael. “Well, I hate myself. That’s the general...that’s how I feel. Sometimes I think I want to die. And sometimes I…” He swallows. “Sometimes...I can’t help it, I just hurt myself.” He closes his eyes. He hears Castiel hum slightly, feels his hand gently placed on his shoulder, but his blue-eyed saviour says nothing. Dean continues. “I hurt myself before all this happened, but I’ve started doing it more often, especially since…since Michael came to my house and tried to...yeah.” He bites his lip, feeling tears sting his eyes, and he tries to even out his breathing.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel’s voice says, sounding impossibly soft and yet firm. “Breathe. You don’t need to say anything else.”

“But I wanna. I...I have to say something or I’ll explode.” Dean shakes his head. “You kinda know why I feel like this. But it’s...it’s just so much more than...you don’t understand. I can still hear his voice when I go to bed...and I can...feel his lips on my neck…” A single tear rolls down his cheeks, followed by others. “I can still _taste_ him. Because he made me...he used me like his personal sex toy...and I…”

“Dean, you’re safe...try to stay calm. Breathe,” Castiel says, squeezing his shoulder gently. Dean shakes his head.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, Cas, but he...he made me disgusting.”

“Shh, Dean, breathe. You are _not_ disgusting.”

“I am, I’m disgusting, I’m...he made me dirty! I’m filthy and gross and why…why are you still _here_?”

Castiel pulls his hand away slowly at that, and Dean looks at him, eyes still spilling tears. “What?” he says, his voice still soft.

“Why are you still here, why don’t you just treat me like I deserve to be treated, why won’t you hate me?!” Dean screams, grabbing the front of Castiel’s shirt.

“I don’t hate you Dean, I won’t,” Castiel says. Dean yells in frustration.

“ _Why?_ I don’t understand, please, just hate me, just... _hate me!_ ” Dean begs.

“No!” The sudden change in tone of Castiel’s voice catches Dean off guard, and he flinches slightly. Castiel keeps going. “I won’t hate you! I refuse! You may get on my nerves at times, and perhaps I should hate you, but I _won’t_ . You are not disgusting, you are not dirty, you are not _filthy_ . You are _beautiful_ , you are _strong_ , and I-” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You _will_ get through this, Dean. I know you will. And I will be there with you...every step of the way.”

Dean bites his lip, before slumping forwards into Castiel’s arms. Castiel holds him in that perfect not-too-tight-not-too-loose kind of way. And Dean hugs him back, holding him as close as he can, never wanting to let go. 

But he has to when he hears a knock at the door. He pulls away, wiping his face on his sleeve as he walks over. He opens the door to reveal a sleepy looking Sam.

“Dude, are you okay?” Sam asks quietly, “I heard yelling.”

Dean swallows, and he forces a nod. “Yeah, Sammy, just...I need you to leave me alone, please,” he says, his voice shaking.

Sam looks confused. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam...please. Maybe someday I’ll tell ya, but you need to just let me deal.”

Sam looks at him, as if studying him. “Okay…” He looks down. “Can I go to a friend’s house today?” he asks. Dean sighs.

“Yeah, do whatever, as long as it’s legal.”

Sam smiles. “Okay, thanks.” He suddenly lunges forward, giving Dean a quick hug, and Dean is reminded that his baby brother is almost taller than him now. “Be safe.”

“You first, bitch.”

Sam pulls away. “Jerk.” He smiles and with that, he leaves. Dean swallows, closing the door, before sitting back down on the bed. He stares at the ground, wiping stray tears from his face as he cries silently, and he feels Castiel’s arms around him again.

“Do you want me to go as well?” he asks, and his voice is soft again. Dean shakes his head.

“I want to die,” he says simply, and he hears Castiel shift next to him.

“Dean…”

“Don’t ask me to go to hospital, Cas, you know I won’t.”

Castiel sighs, and Dean looks over at him. “This isn’t healthy, Dean,” Castiel says. Dean takes a deep breath.

“Tell me about it.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Dean speaks again.

“Does therapy really help?” he asks quietly, looking down. Castiel hums from next to him.

“Yes. It helped me quite a bit,” Castiel replies. Dean bites his lip.

“You were...in therapy? Why?”

Castiel sighs. “When I was twelve I attempted to...kill myself. Evidently, I failed. My parents put me in therapy. I hated it at first. But I grew used to it, and it helped me greatly.”

Dean shakes his head. “No. No way.”

Castiel scoffs gently. “What?”

“No way you were suicidal.”

“Dean.”

“You’re just...you’re too...you’re _you_.”

Castiel chuckles quietly. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

Dean swallows. “It wasn’t, it was just a fact.” He looks up at Castiel, who rolls his eyes a bit.

“Dean, the point is, I understand,” he says, meeting Dean’s gaze. “Not completely. I haven’t experienced what you have. But I know what it’s like to want to die. And I know therapy helps.”

Dean pulls his knees up to his chest. “I’m glad.” He realises how that sounds, and he shakes his head. “Uh, that you failed, I mean. I’m glad you’re still here.”

Castiel smiles at him, and Dean can’t help but smile back slightly. “And I’m glad you’re here as well. So glad.”

Dean looks away, because he’s afraid he’ll melt if he keeps watching Castiel’s smile. “I don’t have that kind of money. For therapy. And my dad wouldn’t pay.”

“I’ll pay.”

Dean shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes, I’ll pay, Dean. I don’t mind.”

“No fucking way, Cas, I won’t let you.”

Castiel chuckles. “I’m eighteen, Dean, I get to decide what I spend my money on.”

Dean shakes his head again. “Well I’m also eighteen, so I get to say up yours.”

“Dean.”

“What?” He looks over, meeting Castiel’s gaze once again.

“I’m paying. At least until you can afford to yourself.” Castiel’s eyes seem to stare into Dean’s soul. Something about it makes Dean feel strange. But he finally nods.

“Fine. Only until I can pay for myself.”

Castiel smiles again, and Dean doesn't feel the hands or lips for a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it looks like things are starting to get a little better...probably. have a spectacular day/night!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go...
> 
> tws for suicide mention, suicidal ideation, self harm mention, rape/noncon mention

They schedule the first appointment with a therapist for Thursday. Dean still doesn’t go to school that week. The thought of going back makes him feel sick, and it just brings back all the memories he tries so hard to forget. At this point, he’s starting to wonder if going back to school is even worth it. He hasn’t left this house since Castiel dropped him off after the fight in the bathroom those three weeks ago. And he has no plans to leave the house any time soon. Except for therapy, apparently. He texts Castiel Thursday at five in the morning, because he can’t go back to sleep and he’s beginning to wonder if therapy is actually a good idea.

‘don’t think i can do this’ 

He hits send, wrapping himself more tightly in the blankets on his bed. He closes his eyes until he feels his phone buzz in his hands.

‘Dean?’

‘Do what? Are you okay?’

Dean blinks as another text pops up after the first two.

‘Please be okay, hold on. I’m coming over.’ 

Dean’s phone starts ringing, and he then realises how his text might have sounded. He curses himself as he shakes his head and answers.

**“Dean?”** Castiel’s voice says, sounding strange. **“Dean, are you alright?”** There’s a shuffling noise on Castiel’s side of the line, followed by a small crash and a few choice words. Dean bites his lip.

“Yeah, Cas, I’m okay,” he says quietly. “Don’t come over, I’m sorry, I just realised how that text sounded. I was talking about therapy.”

There’s a pause, before Dean hears Castiel sigh. **“Jesus Christ, Dean.”**

Dean swallows. “Sorry.”

**“You scared the hell out of me.”**

“Really?”

There’s a small scoff from Castiel’s end. **“Yes, Dean, I thought you were…”** He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. Dean sighs.

“Sorry, Cas, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just...sorry.”

Dean hears more rustling and shuffling from the phone, before Castiel’s voice cuts through it all again. **“Alright…”** A pause. **“Why...what’s this about therapy?”**

Dean sits up slowly, still keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around him. “I don’t think I can go.”

**“Why?”** Castiel asks, and his voice sounds less strange now. Dean swallows.

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to. I don’t think I can, I’m…” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Scared. I think. I don’t know.”

Castiel hums. Dean closes his eyes at the sound. **“That’s okay, Dean. I was my first time, too.”**

“I don’t wanna talk to a stranger about all this, Cas. I don’t see how...it doesn’t make sense to me.”

**“I know. But it really does help.”**

Dean shakes his head slightly, the fingers of the hand not holding his phone squeezing a fistful of blanket. “I don’t know, man. I don’t think...” He pauses after he realises his voice is shaking, and he shakes his head again. He will _not_ cry now. “I don’t know."

**“Dean.”**

“Castiel.”

There's a moment of silence, and Dean wonders if it has anything to do with calling Castiel by his full name. **“Do you trust me?”** Castiel finally says. It’s Dean’s turn to go quiet. He thinks he does. Castiel has helped him through so much, and Dean’s told him so much. Even though it’s only been a short amount of time since Castiel stopped Michael that night, Dean feels like they’ve been friends forever. Like they’ve shared lifetimes together. And to think that six weeks ago, they used to hate each other. Or dislike each other. Whatever it was. Dean doesn’t even know anymore. But now, Castiel is his blue-eyed saviour. His angel. Though he’d never say either aloud.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean finally says, leaning back and looking up at his ceiling.

**“Then at least try to go,”** Castiel replies gently. **“At the very least, just a few times. Just try.”**

Dean sighs heavily. “Cas…”

**“Please, Dean. For me.”**

Dean tenses up at that. He doesn’t know why, but his breath hitches, too. He freezes almost completely, unable to think of what to say. His brain stops working, which is good in some sense because he’s not thinking of Michael. But he can’t move, and it scares him. “Yeah, okay,” he finally manages to say. “I will. Thanks. Talk to you later.”

He hangs up quickly, and his breath returns in quick, shallow bursts. Castiel’s voice echoes in his head. _‘For me’._ Why is that affecting Dean so much? Why did he nearly shut down at those two words? _‘For me.’_ They’re just words. They shouldn’t be able to do this. _‘For me.’_ It’s scaring Dean more than therapy, now. Because he’s starting to realise, slowly, what’s happening. He shakes his head, lying back down and burying himself in his blankets. He squeezes his eyes shut. No. That’s not it. It’s nothing. It has to be nothing. They’re just words. They don’t mean anything special. Especially not to Dean.

_‘For me.’_

~~~

“Dean Winchester? I have an appointment with uh...Jody Mills?”

The man behind the counter looks up momentarily at Dean with a small smile. “Winchester…” he repeats, looking back down at his computer. After a moment, he nods. “Okay, gotcha, here, fill this out and hand it to her when you go in.” He hands Dean a clipboard with some questions on it. “Have a seat, I’ll let her know you’re here!” he says, and Dean can’t help but feel slightly annoyed at how cheerful the guy sounds. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, turning to sit in a chair in the corner of the waiting room. He sighs as he sits down, tugging a bit at his sleeve and looking around the room. There’s a few other people sitting down, but not many. And it’s deadly quiet. Too quiet. Dean’s brain starts doing its thing and bringing up memories of Michael, and Dean bites his lip and looks at the clipboard in his hand. He tries to focus on filling that out. When he’s finished, he opens the Tetris app he has, because honestly, he just needs a distraction. Especially given the fact that he’s about to have to talk about how he feels with a complete stranger. God, why did he let Castiel talk him into this?

“Dean Winchester?”

Dean looks up as his name is called, and he glances around, before standing slowly and pocketing his phone. He clears his throat as he makes his way towards the woman who called his name. She looks kind enough, he decides. That still doesn’t mean he feels comfortable spilling his feelings all over the place in front of her, but at least she seems kind.

“How’re you doing?” she asks with a smile, and Dean takes a deep breath.

“Fine,” he lies, following her through a hall and then into a small room with two comfortable-looking chairs and a small desk.

“Have a seat,” Jody Mills says, closing the door, and Dean sits in the chair closest to the door.

“So you want me to call you Ms Mills or Mrs Mills or Jody or…?” Dean says as she sits down. He hands her the clipboard. She smiles at him.

“Jody’s fine.” She glances over the clipboard. “And you’re Dean, right?”

Dean nods. She nods back, once again looking at the clipboard. “Alright, I’m gonna start with some run-of-the-mill questions based on what you’ve filled out here, sound good?”

Dean bites his lip. “Sure,” he lies. He hates this already, but he knows he’s got to get through at least one session.

“Okay, first, you seen any counselors or therapists before?” 

“No.”

Jody starts writing something down on Dean’s form. It makes Dean uneasy. “Alright, and any medication you’re on?”

Dean shakes his head. “Uh-uh.”

Jody nods, writing something else down. “Okay, Dean, something tells me you want to cut to the chase.”

Dean blinks, looking down. Damn, she’s good. “Uh. Sure.”

“Hm. Well my main concern is that you marked the ‘almost every day’ box for both wanting to harm yourself and thoughts of suicide in the past month.” She looks up from the form on the clipboard. Dean swallows hard.

“Yeah,” he says simply, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Do you wanna talk about that?” Jody asks. Dean shakes his head.

“Not really.” He bites his lip, thinking of Castiel. “My friend says I should, though.”

Jody hums. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Castiel.”

“Interesting name.”

Dean smiles ever so slightly, looking up. “Yeah. He’s an interesting dude, so.”

Jody smiles. “What’s Castiel like?”

Dean sighs. “He’s nice. Way to fucking nice.” He pauses. “Sorry, wait, is...can I curse in here?”

Jody laughs. “Sure.”

Dean smiles a bit more. “He’s weird. But cool. He and I didn’t used to get along, but then-” He cuts himself off, his smile disappearing. “Anyways. Cool dude.”

Jody hums. “What were you gonna say?” she asks gently. Dean shakes his head.

“Nothing. Just.” He swallows. _For Cas_. “Guess I gotta, huh. That’s the point of this therapy stuff, anyways.” 

Jody says nothing, so Dean continues.

“‘Kay." He sighs shakily. "Six weeks ago, I was at this party." He closes his eyes, if only to keep from starting to cry in front of the person he barely knows. "And someone...roofied me...and he tried to ra...you get the point." He shakes his head. "Cas stopped him.”

“I see.” She scribbles something down. “Could this event at the party maybe be the cause of some of these thoughts you’re having? Or was there anything else?”

Dean chuckles emotionlessly. “Oh, lady, you got no idea.”

~~~

Dean collapses on the couch and turns on the TV when he gets home in search of another distraction. Sam will be home from school soon, unless he decides to hang out with that friend of his, who Dean has learned is named Eileen. Apparently, she’s a foreign exchange student from Ireland who’s staying for a couple months. She’s deaf, which explains Sam’s sudden interest in sign language, and she’s, in Sam’s words, ‘just really really cool’. Dean doesn’t know much beyond that, because that’s all Sam will tell him. All he knows is she makes Sam happy, and that’s all that matters.

Dean flips through the channels, not really knowing what he’s in the mood to watch. He gives up and pulls out his phone after a moment, seeing a text from Castiel when he does. He opens it and smiles slightly upon reading it.

‘How did it go?’

Dean sighs as he types a reply, lying his head back against the couch cushions.

‘it sucked ass’

Castiel’s response comes shortly after.

‘But you’ll go again?’

Dean sighs.

‘yeah cas, i will’

He smiles a bit at Castiel’s next text.

‘Thank you. You won’t regret it :)’


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter that's kind of a filler but here we go
> 
> tws for internalized homophobia, suicidal ideation, rape/noncon mention

When Sam walks back from school, Charlie’s with him. Dean has no idea why, at first, until he realises that Charlie’s pretty much his best friend so why wouldn’t she stop in after a while. She’s probably worried as hell. Dean doesn’t blame her. When she and Sam walk in the door, she envelopes Dean in a hug that nearly suffocates him.

“I’ve missed you so so so so much,” she says as she pulls away, and Dean can’t help but smile.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he replies, reaching for her hand and giving it a small squeeze. He then takes a deep breath. “So, what’s up?”

“Not much,” Charlie replies, “Just wanted to see how you were doing. I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Dean nods, his smile fading. “Yeah...sorry about that. Just can’t…” He clears his throat, not knowing what to say. He tries to think of an excuse that doesn’t involve talking about Michael out loud for a second time today. “I just haven’t been feeling good.” 

Charlie raises an eyebrow slightly, but nods. “That’s okay. And you know if you ever need to talk about it, then-”

“Then I can talk to you.” He forces another smile. “I know.”

Charlie sighs, smiling back, though it looks like a sad smile. “Good.”

Dean bites his lip. He needs to tell her eventually. That much he knows. He trusts Charlie, so probably should have told her already. But he can’t bring himself to, for so many reasons. He’s afraid it will change her opinion of him. He’s afraid she’ll hate him. He’s afraid she’ll tell someone else. He knows that all of that’s just irrational thinking, because he _trusts_ Charlie. He really does. But his brain won’t let him listen to common sense. She’s known him for so long, and he doesn’t want to lose her. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to tell Castiel, and why he went to therapy and told a complete stranger everything rather than his own best friend. He hasn’t known them as long as he’s known Charlie. There was less to lose.

“I’ll tell you why, Charlie. Someday, I promise,” Dean says. “Just not...now.”

Charlie nods. “But you’ll be okay, right?” she asks, taking both of Dean’s hands in hers. Dean hesitates. He doesn’t know. He thinks he might be. He has some hope. Despite the constant nightmares and intrusive thoughts of Michael all over him, he feels okay sometimes. Sometimes he doesn’t want to die. Sometimes he can genuinely smile. So maybe he will be okay.

“I will. I’m uh…” Dean sighs. “I’m getting help. Therapy. Supposedly that helps, so I’ll be okay.”

Charlie looks at him like she has so many questions, but they never pass her lips. She just smiles and hugs him tight again, and Dean hugs back. He kisses her head gently, before pulling away.

“Well, I just came to make sure you were doing okay,” Charlie says, “I better head home.”

Dean hums. “Let me drive you,” he says, and Charlie shakes her head.

“I walked all the way here, I think I can make the walk to my house.”

“Charlie,” Dean insists. “Let me drive you.”

Charlie says nothing for a moment, before finally nodding. “Okay, fine. Love you, dork.”

Dean smiles. “Love you, too.”

~~~

“What do you _mean_ , you’ve never seen Terminator?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and tilts his head slightly. “I’ve just never seen it.”

It’s Saturday morning. Castiel came over out of the blue earlier, and Dean hadn’t been about to complain, because he needed something to take his mind off of other things, so he let him in. They’re now sitting on Dean’s bed, with Dean leaning against the wall and Castiel leaning against the headboard with his legs on top of Dean’s. They had been talking about movies in theatres, which had somehow turned into a conversation about Arnold Schwarzenegger, which ended up turning into Dean being extremely confused and almost offended as to why Castiel has never seen the art of film that is The Terminator. “I heard you the first time, but... _why?_ ” Dean asks, bouncing a bit on the bed. Castiel smiles slightly.

“I haven’t gotten around to it, I guess,” he says. Dean rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Cas, it’s The Terminator. You don’t just _not get around to it._ ”

Castiel chuckles at that. “Okay, then let’s watch it together.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, swallowing. The re quest makes his heart skip a beat, and he curses himself for that. “Uh...what?” he says after a moment, pulling his legs out from under Castiel’s and pulling them up to his chest. Castiel hums.

“Can’t we watch it now?” he asks. Dean nods.

“Yeah, ‘course, I own it.”

“Then let’s watch it.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “Wh- like now?”

Castiel laughs. “Yes, Dean. Like now.”

Dean shrugs slightly. He likes the idea of it, honestly. He likes the idea of watching a movie he enjoys, of showing it to someone who’s never seen it so they can enjoy it, too. But he also enjoys the idea of that someone being Castiel, and that makes him feel strange. He ignores the feeling and forces a grin. “Sure, yeah.”

Castiel’s mouth curves into a smile that seems so sweet, it makes Dean’s stomach churn. Dammit. “Let’s do it,” Castiel says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. Dean does the same, slowly rising from the bed. He offers Castiel a small smile, as he heads to the door. Castiel follows him out and down the stairs to the living room. Dean moves to the cupboard under the TV and looks for the movie among his collection of DVDs. He glances behind him, seeing Castiel sitting on the arm of the couch. “So,” Castiel says. Dean looks back at the movies and continues to look.

“So?” he asks, finding the DVD and pulling it out.

“You haven’t told me much else about Thursday’s appointment. Other than that it…” He pauses. “Sucked ass.”

Dean smiles at the way Castiel says the words. “Not much else to say.” He opens the DVD player and sticks in the movie. “It just sucked. The lady was nice, I guess. But I hated it. We didn’t...click. I don’t know.”

Castiel hums from behind him. “I understand. You’ll get used to it. I promise.”

Dean rolls his eyes slightly. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just watch the damn movie.” He looks back at Castiel with a grin, before sitting on one side of the couch. Castiel sits in the middle, right next to him. Dean swallows, trying to ignore the proximity as he starts the movie and sets the remote aside. He thinks he’s fine for a while. But then it becomes too much. It’s half because it reminds him of Michael. But that’s not even the worst of it. The worst of it is the further realisation that hits him again. That’s been gnawing at him since Thursday. That makes Dean scared for his life.

“Cas, can you uh...personal space?” he says after a moment. Castiel looks at him, before moving to the other side of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, and Dean shakes his head.

“It’s fine, Cas.”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

They’re still looking at each other as a moment of silence ensues. Dean looks away first, looking back at the screen and trying to focus on the movie. But his mind wanders. He doesn’t understand why this had to happen, on top of everything else. If remembering everything Michael anytime he isn’t distracted wasn’t enough, now there’s this. It’s killing him. He’s afraid to admit it, even to himself, but he knows that it’s killing him. He knows he can’t escape it. And he’s scared. Almost more scared of it than he is of Michael. God, _why?_ Why is all this happening? Why can’t he just have a goddamn moment of _peace?_ First everything with Michael, which Dean is now certain will haunt him for the rest of his life, and now this.

Why does he have to be falling for Castiel Novak?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more drama coming soon...
> 
> have a splendid day <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here, have some angst
> 
> tws for internalized homophobia, homophobia, rape/noncon mention

Dean doesn’t notice at first when the credits start rolling. He’s been looking at the screen, but nothing on it has been registering. He’s been lost in his own head for half the movie, thinking of hands, and falling for Castiel, and what his father would think if he knew about either, and all the things that are making his life more difficult at the moment. He only realises the movie’s over when he hears Castiel’s voice cut through the air like footsteps shuffling through gravel.

“That was actually pretty decent,” Castiel says, “I can see why you like it.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but he smiles. “Alright, I’ll take pretty decent as good enough,” he says, reaching over and punching Castiel’s arm playfully. He doesn’t really know why he does it. It just sort of happens, and Castiel doesn’t seem to mind, because he just smiles and gently pushes Dean’s arm away.

“I liked it, Dean,” he says. “It was good.”

Dean gives a triumphant smile. “Good, thank you.”

Castiel laughs. “You’re welcome.”

Dean sighs. There’s a moment of silence, and they just watch each other. Dean doesn’t know if he feels uncomfortable or...something else. He eventually forces his eyes away and clears his throat, moving off the couch to put the movie away. He kneels down in front of the DVD player, which for some reason decides to remind him of that day with Michael in the school bathroom. He swears under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment, before resuming putting the movie away. Castiel, that son of a bitch, must notice, because there’s concern in his tone when he speaks.

“Do you need help?” he asks, and his voice is doing that soft, ocean-water-against-rocks thing again. Dean looks back at him, considering for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he answers. “Just...memories are a bitch, you know? Need a moment.”

Castiel gives an understanding nod. “Of course. Don’t hesitate to ask if you do need help with anything.”

Dean wants to punch Castiel in his perfect face, because he’s being way too nice again, and it gets on Dean’s nerves. Mostly because it makes Dean want to smile and kiss Castiel right where he stands, but Dean has other things to think about now. Like trying to ignore how the taste of Michael is slowly seeping back into his mouth. He wishes he could just turn his brain off at times. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” he says with a small smile, before turning back to put the DVD back in its case. “Want something to drink?” he asks, primarily because he really needs to put something in his mouth quickly before the memory of Michael makes him hurl. “Beer, soda…”

Castiel hums. “Water is fine, thank you.”

Dean stands and looks back at him, seeing he’s standing as well. “You sure? Nobody’s gonna know if you have a beer, I won’t tell.” He winks to accentuate his point, but he doesn’t really mean to. He curses himself for it. Now really isn’t the time. He feels sick for more than one reason.

“Water’s good, Dean, really.”

Dean shrugs. “Suit yourself, weirdo.” He sees Castiel roll his eyes, and he grins.

“Because it’s normal to drink a beer instead of water,” Castiel says sarcastically as Dean makes his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, normal in this house,” Dean calls back.

“Your poor liver…” he hears Castiel mumble, and he can’t help but laugh as he grabs a beer from the fridge. He grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water, before heading back to the living room.

“Your water.” He holds out the glass for Castiel. “Weirdo.”

Castiel takes the glass with a sigh. “Again, drinking water is normal.”

Dean smiles. “You’re plenty weird in other ways, Cas.”

Castiel nudges Dean in the ribs with his elbow as they sit back down on the couch. Dean doesn’t mind the physical contact all that much. He actually likes it. Fuck. “You’re insufferable,” Castiel says.

Dean grins. “You know I am.”

Castiel giggles, and it’s the cutest shit Dean has ever heard. Dammit. Dean pops the cap off of his beer bottle, before taking a swig. The taste, albeit not the greatest, is a relief compared to what Dean’s mind is making his mouth taste like.

“At least tell me you don’t let Sam have alcohol,” Castiel says after a moment. Dean scoffs, nearly choking on another drink of beer. He coughs a few times.

“Hell no,” he says, “I’m not letting Sammy _touch_ a drop of alcohol ‘till he’s at least eighteen.”

Castiel smiles. “It’s...sweet. How you care for Sam so much.”

Dean nearly chokes again, and he’s not even drinking this time. He feels his face go hot, and thoughts of Michael are slowly pushed away by different, more pleasant thoughts. He clears his throat. “He’s my brother, it’s my job.”

Castiel shakes his head, before taking a small sip of water. “You’re almost like a father to him.”

Dean bites his lip. “I guess.”

“He’s lucky to have such a wonderful person as his brother.”

Dean’s face goes hotter, and he looks away. “Shut up,” he grumbles, bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink. He can feel Castiel’s eyes on him, and when he brings the bottle away and dares to look at him, he sees Castiel quickly avert his gaze and start sipping his water. Dean watches Castiel’s Adam’s apple bob up and down slightly as he swallows, and he bites his lip.

Goddammit.

Dean pulls his eyes away again, chugging the rest of his beer as quick as he can. He shakes his head slightly as he realises he wants more, hoping it will help him forget everything for just a moment. After all, he’s read somewhere that even just one drink can affect your brain, if only a little. He takes the bottle and makes his way to the kitchen. He sets the bottle on the table, before opening the fridge and grabbing another. Maybe he’ll have a third one when Castiel leaves, because he truly doesn’t know how else to deal with all this at the moment. He can talk about Michael all he wants with Castiel, but the other thing is something he refuses to say. When he walks back into the living room, Castiel looks at him, eyes widening slightly.

“Dean, perhaps you should just have the one,” he says, holding his glass of water in both hands. Dean shakes his head. 

“I’ll be fine, Cas, I’ve had more than two beers and been fine before,” he says, popping the cap and taking a sip. Castiel sighs.

“Is…” Castiel starts, and he sounds tentative. “Are you alright…?” Dean looks at him.

“Dude, it’s just a couple beers. I’m fine. Just thirsty.”

“Water is much more effective when it comes to quenching thirst.”

“Shut up.”

Castiel chuckles quietly beside Dean, and Dean looks at him.

“What?” he asks, slightly annoyed, but still unable to hide the smile that creeps onto his expression. Castiel grins.

“Nothing,” he answers. Dean’s brow furrows.

“Cas, what.”

“Nothing.”

“Cas!”

“Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine, keep your damn secrets, see if I care.” He takes a huge swig of beer, finishing half the bottle. Castiel chuckles again, and Dean groans loudly. “Dude, what are you laughing at?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, smiling softly, “It’s nothing, Dean. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Dean huffs, crossing his arms and looking down. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he mimics in a mocking tone, and he feels Castiel punch his arm gently. Again, he welcomes the feeling, and even craves more contact. Fucking hell. “Now who’s being insufferable, you dick.”

Castiel full on laughs this time, and Dean looks at him almost incredulously at first, before finding himself having to hide his smile by taking another swig of beer. “We’re insufferable together, then.”

Dean swallows, the word ‘together’ echoing in his ears as he thinks up a reply. “Guess we are.” 

Several things happen next. Castiel gently reaches his hand out and places it on Dean’s shoulder whilst simultaneously setting his glass of water down. Dean sets what little is left of his beer down as well, before bringing his hand up and placing it on top of Castiel’s. They look at each other for a moment, and the space between them suddenly feels like mountains to Dean, and he just wants to be closer. Why he’s allowing himself to actually _get_ closer is beyond him, but he’s doing it, inching closer to his friend. They’re still staring, neither one pulling away once Dean’s well into Castiel’s personal space. They stay like that for a moment, before Dean moves his hand away. What is he doing? He doesn’t know. But instead of pulling his hand away, it’s suddenly on Castiel’s shoulder, and then he’s leaning forward, even further into Castiel’s space, at an excruciatingly slow pace. Castiel doesn’t move away. And then their lips are pressed together, for just the smallest amount of time, before Dean pulls away. Then they stare at each other a moment longer, before Castiel leans forwards again, and so does Dean. Their lips meet again, and Dean’s head feels like it’s full of big, white, fluffy clouds. He remembers the last time he felt like this, thinks of how it feels so much more powerful and more amazing now than it did then. For a moment he wonders how this can be so bad when it feels so good. For a moment, he’s okay with who he is. He forgets what's happened to him in the past, forgets his pain. For a moment, he's genuinely okay.

He hears a door open. He doesn’t know what to do for a moment, so he just freezes. He can’t pull away, and Castiel doesn’t seem to notice or hear the door or anything at all. Dean still feels like he can’t move. He wonders for a split second if Sam is finally awake and has come out of his room. But the door’s too loud, and then there’s the voice. “Dean,” comes his father’s voice, and Dean feels the most horrible sense of familiarity wash over him. He can’t let Thanksgiving repeat itself. He pulls away, pushing Castiel so hard he nearly sends him over the side of the couch. Dean then opens his mouth and words come flowing before he can really think, because he's so _afraid,_ so _terrified_ of what his father will do now that he's caught Dean with a boy, _again_.

“Get off, you disgu...you _fag!_ ” he yells at the top of his lungs, scooting further back on the couch and putting as much distance as he can between him and Castiel. He watches as Castiel’s jaw drops, as his eyes widen and fill with confusion and hurt, and all he wants to do is apologise. But he can't, because he can feel his father's eyes on them now. He steals a glance at his dad, who’s walking towards him with rage painted all over his face. And when he looks back at Castiel, he sees him get up off the couch and run to the door. His father’s suddenly sitting where Castiel had been before Dean can react.

“What happened?” his dad orders, his tone low, and Dean meets his eyes. Fear fills his entire being, so he shakes his head and lies.

“He...he just came at me,” he says, and the lie physically hurts to say. “We were talking, and he just kissed me. Right before you came in. I didn't...I just needed him to get off...”

His father eyes him with a suspicious look, but nods. Dean’s on the verge of tears as he watches his dad rise from the couch. “You did the right thing,” he says, and Dean nearly throws up at the words. When his father exits to the kitchen, Dean runs up to his room and lets the tears in his eyes and sobs in his chest start.

_What did he just do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes...things do get better for Cas and Dean eventually, but not yet, so hold on
> 
> have an outstanding day!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter with some more angst and some protective big bro Gabriel content
> 
> tws for homophobic language, slight suicidal ideation

Dean forces himself to calm down as much as he can about an hour after the crying turns into a full blown panic attack. Breathing is still hard when he leaves his room, but he’s managed to stop crying. Even if he still had been, it wouldn’t have mattered. He needs to see Castiel. He needs to make things right. “I’m going out for a drive,” he tells his father as he passes the living room. His dad looks away from the TV and meets his eyes.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “Be home in time for dinner.”

“I will be.” That might be a lie. Dean doesn’t care. He grabs the Impala’s keys and heads out the door, ignoring the tears that so desperately want to fall again. He gets in his car and drives off, the way to Castiel’s house seared into his brain. Being out of the house feels strange, but Dean doesn’t care. All he cares about now is getting to Castiel. Dammit, what was he thinking? He wasn’t, not really, but still. He didn’t mean what he said. Castiel is the most caring, amazing, _beautiful_ person Dean’s ever known, and he can’t believe what he said to him. It was all a mistake. A horrible, awful mistake.

When Dean gets to the house, he does a quick, shitty job at parking, before stumbling out of the car and running to the door. He rings the doorbell once, and waits. He rings it again a few seconds later. And when no one answers, he rings it a third time. He thanks every deity he can think of when the door opens, and he’s met by a homicidal looking Gabriel. Dean opens his mouth to speak, but Gabriel holds up a hand.

“Look, kiddo, I don’t know what you did to Cassie, but whatever it was, you’re a bag of dicks,” he says. Dean is taken aback for just a moment, before he shakes his head.

“I know, I’m…” He bites his lip. “Where is he?”

Gabriel scoffs. “He’s in his room. Which is where you’re not gonna go.” He steps out of the house, forcing Dean to take a step back. “He called me to pick him up, and he was bawling his eyes out. So you better scram before I kick your ass.”

Dean shakes his head again. “Look, short-stuff,” he starts, standing up a little straighter. “I don’t give a fuck what you have to say, just _let me see him._ Please. I need...he needs to know that I’m sorry.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow, but his features soften slightly. “First off, make a joke about my height again and I will make you eat chocolate ‘till you explode. Second off, he told me not to let you in, Dean-o.”

Dean looks down, feeling tears sting his eyes. “Please.” He’s begging now, and he knows it’s pathetic, but he just doesn’t care. “I need to see him.”

Gabriel sighs, before stepping aside. “He’s pissed at you.”

“I know. He has every right to be.”

“If you do anything else to hurt him, I _will_ kill you.”

Dean swallows, nods, then walks into the house and practically runs up the stairs. “Cas,” he says as he steps into Castiel’s room, which is only lit by a lamp. The rainbow flag that was once hanging on the wall is lying on the ground in a sad pile. The bright colours look duller somehow. Castiel is sitting in the middle of the bed, his back facing the door. And Dean’s stomach twists so hard he nearly throws up when he hears the familiar sound of someone’s breathing when they’re trying not to cry. 

Fuck.

“No one was supposed to let you in,” Castiel says, his voice sounding rougher than usual. Like he’s been crying since he left Dean’s house. He probably has been. “ _Who the fuck let you in?!_ ” he screams as he turns to look at Dean. Dean flinches, more from how broken Castiel’s voice sounds than from the volume. And his heart shatters when he sees the tears streaking Castiel’s face. He knows he did this. And he hates himself for it.

“Cas, I...I’m sorry,” Dean says, taking a few steps further into the room.

“Right, you’re _sorry_.”

“I didn’t mean to call you...that.”

“If you didn’t mean it, _why_ would you say it?”

Dean swallows. “I was just scared, m-my dad came home early, and you were kissing me, and I-”

Castiel cuts him off with a laugh. A cold, broken laugh that sounds so awful, it catches Dean off guard and makes his heart skip a beat. “You really can’t accept it, can you? _You kissed me first_ , Dean.” Dean freezes as he hears those words. He’s halfway to the bed when he does. He knows Castiel is right. He knows he needs to just admit it. Castiel continues. “You can’t accept that you’re just another...‘disgusting fag’ like me.” He holds his hands up and makes air quotes. Dean shakes his head.

“Cas, I’m not,” he says, though he knows it’s not true.

_“Then why the fuck did you kiss me?”_

Dean takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I did kiss you. I’m sorry for that, I just...I guess the beers affected me more than usual or...I don’t know why I did it. I’m sorry.”

Castiel scoffs. “You’re sorry for that?! Dean, for a moment, that was one of the best moments of my entire fucking _life_. For a moment I thought-” He runs a hand over his face. “I thought you liked me like I liked you.”

Dean’s breath hitches. He can’t speak.

“But if...if you…” Castiel’s breathing sounds wrong, laboured. Dean feels sick. “If you really...if I was just your experiment or you were toying with my emotions or whatever the hell that kiss was for, then you can fuck off.”

Dean swallows, and he can feel his own eyes stinging with tears now. He doesn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that! I don’t care!”

“Cas-”

“No, Dean, I’ve been gentle with you, I’ve listened to you, I’ve been there, for _you_. All of it for you. And you treat me like shit in return!”

“Cas, I-”

“No, shut up! Leave me alone and shut up!”

Dean’s heart shatters even more. He wants to die. “Cas…”

“Go home, Dean. Don’t talk to me again.”

Dean shakes his head slightly. “Please…Cas please, hear me out.”

“I’ve ‘heard you out’, Dean. All you do is keep apologizing. Over and over. Am I supposed to forgive you?”

“No, not...just...I’m sorry. I was being stupid, I didn’t want...I was being selfish.”

“Yeah. You were.”

“But Cas, please. I know you’re angry, but please just...give me another chance…”

Castiel does the cold laugh again. Dean shudders. “I can’t, Dean. I just can’t. Please...leave.”

Dean feels the tears sting his eyes even harder, but he nods. “O-okay. I’ll go.” He swallows the lump in his throat, stepping back towards the door. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel scoffs. “You’ve said.”

Dean sighs. “I mean it.”

“Alright.”

Dean bites his lip. “Night, Cas. I…” He wants to say it so bad. It’s only two more words. He wants to be brave enough, to spit it out. _I love you_. “Stay safe, buddy. I know you have every right to hate me, but...I hope I didn’t ruin everything.” And with that, he leaves. He trudges slowly down the stairs. Gabriel is at the bottom.

“Well?” he asks. Dean shakes his head.

“He hates me,” he says. Gabriel chuckles.

“Kiddo, Castiel isn’t known for holding grudges. If you genuinely apologized, he’ll come ‘round.” He raises an eyebrow. “And if he doesn’t, it was probably for a good reason, and then I’ll have to kill you, stuff your body with cotton candy, and feed you to my dog. She has a sweet tooth.”

Dean makes a bit of a face, but nods. He bites his lip and says nothing as he makes it to the door. He walks out and gets in his car, and he starts crying again as he drives off back towards his house. He wishes he had the courage to stand up to his father. Wishes he had been smarter about the whole situation. Wishes he could talk to Castiel about how he feels. But he can't, because Castiel is the one he's hurt. Dean hates himself for it. He pushes harder on the gas pedal, barely paying attention to the road as tears blur his vision. It's a miracle he even makes it back to his house at all, and that he's not arrested or in a car crash or anything. Not that Dean cares. What little he's built up feels like it's falling apart. And Dean doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, happiness will come for these two eventually. but it is not this day.
> 
> have an ecstatic day <3


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more angst :,)
> 
> tws for self harm, suicidal ideation, violence, homophobia, slight rape/noncon mention

His father is sitting in front of the TV again with a beer in his hand when Dean gets home. Dean tries to walk past the living room and to his bedroom without drawing attention to himself. He really doesn’t want to deal with any more of this right now. He doesn’t know how to deal with anymore of this right now.

“Where’d you go?” Dean’s father’s voice comes, and Dean stops. He takes a deep breath, before turning and taking a few steps into the living room. The question is innocent enough, and Dean lies easily.

“Just needed some air,” he says with a small shrug. The TV switches off. His father turns to look at him.

“You’ve been needing a lot of ‘air’ lately.” Dean knows he’s talking about his absences at school even before he says it. “You need to go to school, Dean.”

“Not in the mood for this conversation right now.”

His dad’s expression goes darker. “Watch your tone with me.”

Dean swallows. “Sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m just tired, I’d like to get some rest.” He really is. He’s tired of everything. Tired of dreaming of Michael. Tired of dealing with his emotions. Tired of ruining every little good thing that comes to him. He wants to rest. Maybe forever.

“I just don’t understand why you won’t go. Why you’re so distant.” His father stands. Dean shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“It’s just a thing I’m dealing with, I’m fine. I’ll go back to school soon.”

“You better.”

“I said I will.”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches on for much longer than is comfortable. Dean realises now that his fists are clenched. He knows that he’s just fed up with everything, and it’s beginning to show. He also knows his father isn’t stupid.

“Where did you go, Dean? What’s really going on here?” his dad asks after the silence stretches on some more. Dean shakes his head slightly.

“Told you, went for a drive,” he answers, trying to keep his voice as still and calm as possible. His father isn’t buying it.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dean can’t help but scoff quietly. He has barely any restraint at this point. “Fine, okay, I went to Castiel’s.”

“Castiel? He the fairy that was here?”

Dean’s jaw clenches. “Don’t call him that,” he breathes out through his teeth, and he’s right in front of his father now.

“Why? It’s what he is, isn’t it?” his dad replies, “He trieda kiss you. And I heard what you said.”

Dean hates himself just a little more as his father reminds him. “What I said was a mistake, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It ain’t no mistake if it’s what he is, Dean.”

“Well, then, I guess I’m the pot calling the kettle black,” Dean snaps, and he regrets it the moment he says it. His father’s eyes darken. His expression goes livid, and Dean’s stomach twists and turns with fear. He opens his mouth to try and take back his words, to fix this somehow. “No, no, no, I didn’t mean...I’m not like him, that’s not what I meant, I-”

He’s cut off by a slap across the face, hard enough to echo through the room and turn Dean’s head. Dean blinks, his hand flying to where his father had hit him as he takes a step back. He looks up at his father, fear taking over every inch of his body.

“You still like that?” his dad half-yells. “You still fucking gay? _”_ His tone is low but terrifying. Dean takes a few deep breaths, his eyes threatening to release tears down his face. He licks his lips, tasting a hint of blood. He flinches as the beer bottle goes from his father’s hand to the opposite wall, shattering with a crash. “You answer me when I talk to you!”

Dean nods. “Y-yessir.”

“You still a faggot?”

Dean nods again, because he can’t find it within him to lie anymore. “Yes,” he whispers, the tears spilling from his eyes now. He steps back once more as his father steps closer.

“Didn’t I teach you anything?!” he bellows, and Dean just cries silently. After all this time of hiding and pretending, his father’s finally seeing him for what he is. A pathetic coward. His father grabs his wrist. Dean whimpers. He’s being thrown to the floor a moment later, and he looks up at his father. “Did you kiss him first?”

Dean closes his eyes and nods. “Y-yes.” He feels a hand hard across his face again.

“I don’t get it, Dean. I thought you were better. You were doing so well, you had a girlfriend…”

Dean shakes his head. “She wasn’t my girlfriend. I lied.” He flinches, expecting another slap. Nothing comes. When he dares to open his eyes, he sees his father staring down at him.

“I’m disappointed in you.”

Those words shouldn’t hit Dean as hard as they do. His dad’s far from the best person, he knows that. He knows those words shouldn’t mean anything. But they shatter him. Everything breaks. He has nothing left.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers. “I know.” With that, he stands and runs as fast as he can to his room, ignoring his father’s shouts and slamming and locking the door behind him. He collapses on the ground, pretending he doesn’t hear the jiggling of the handle, the pounding on the door. He just sobs. He’s done a lot of that lately, he realises. Way too much. He eventually stops, because he’s so tired of that, too. He just silently grabs a razor and he gets to work on his wrists. Not too deep, because even now he’s too scared to put himself to rest just yet. But they’re not just scratches, either. He doesn’t bother cleaning up or getting into bed once he’s done. He just falls asleep, lying on the ground, and dreams of the mess he’s made of his life.

~~~

The first thing Dean sees when he wakes up is blood.

His own blood.

He sits up slowly, his wrists aching with a dull, sharp pain. There are some red smears across the floor where Dean’s arms had rested and moved last night as he slept. It looks awful, and Dean nearly throws up there and now. He squeezes his eyes shut, standing up before opening them again. He glances at the clock. It’s nearly three in the afternoon. He stumbles to the door and unlocks it, peeking out into the hall to ensure no one’s there, before he moves as quickly as he can towards the bathroom. He locks the door and starts pulling off his clothes, reaching out to start the water in the shower. He doesn’t bother waiting for it to warm up, needing to get the blood off of him as quickly as he can. As if washing away the blood will wash away everything he’s done and the pain that comes along with it.

The initial cold of the water makes Dean’s entire body shudder violently as he steps into the shower. He bites his lip hard, reopening the wound from when his dad slapped him last night. His eyes close again, refusing to look at himself. He doesn’t want to see the crimson wash down the drain. He doesn’t want to see the water against his scars. He doesn’t want to see his own body. Everything about him just revives memories and reminds him of everything he’s done, everything that’s happened, and how it all must be his fault. If he hadn’t gone to that party, if he hadn’t befriended Michael, if he hadn’t fallen in love with Castiel, if he had kept his mouth shut…

Dean lets out a shaky breath, opening his eyes and staring at the shower wall. It’s all his fault. All of his goddamn problems are his own fault. And the more he thinks, the more he can feel the fear of taking his own life ebbing away. It’s happened before, but now it feels more powerful. Maybe because he really has nothing left anymore. Or at least feels that way. He knows, deep down, that he still has Sam. That he still has Charlie. But it’s getting harder to remember, to care, and he admits he’s being selfish, but he’s just _so fucking tired._

Once he’s done washing up, Dean steps out of the shower. He wraps a towel around himself, looking out to ensure the hall is empty again, before returning to his room. He locks the door once inside, before he slowly walks over to his dresser and pulls on some clothes. He drops the towel in the clothes basket in the corner of the room, before he sits on the bed. He stares at the floor, swallowing hard, before grabbing his phone from where it’s lying on the floor. He pulls up Castiel’s contact and gets to typing.

‘hey cas. i know i’m probably the last person you wanna hear from rn, but i just need you to know some things. first, i think i owe you an explanation for why i said what i said. i don’t expect you to forgive me, i just want you to understand. i was afraid of my dad, bc i was afraid it would turn out like thanksgiving all over again. i was scared, but that doesn’t make what i said right, so i’m sorry. i hope you can forgive me someday, but it’s okay if you don’t’

He hits send, taking a deep breath, before typing up more.

‘secondly i want you to know that it’s not your fault. you were great, you did everything right, i’m the one who messed it all up’

He swallows, biting his lip as he types of his third message.

‘and last, i want you to know that you were right. i’m not gay, not exactly, but i’m something like that. and i’

He pauses, his fingers trembling as he ponders his final words.

‘love you. i’m sorry i wasn’t good at it’ he finishes, before hitting send and setting his phone on the bedside table. He takes a few deep breaths. He can’t believe he’s about to do this, but there’s also some comfort in it as he thinks about it. No more nightmares. No more messing things up. Just sleep. He reaches for the razor that’s still lying on the ground. There’s a knock at the door as he does so, and Dean freezes. It’s a Sunday, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that his dad is home. He doesn’t want to answer it if it’s him. He doesn’t want to answer if it’s Sam either, truthfully. Now that he thinks about it, Sam would be worse. He can’t let Sam see him like this. He has to be the strong big brother to him. Even if he’s going to die today, he wants Sam to remember him like that.

“Dean?” comes Sam’s voice through the wood, and Dean bites his lip. “Can you open the door?” His voice sounds slightly shaky. Dean says nothing. There’s more knocking. “Dean? Dean, please open the door.” Dean swallows, his eyes stinging with tears now. “Dean?” Sam’s voice is shaking more now. “Dean! Open this stupid door!” The knocking turns to pounding, and it sounds desperate. Then it stops for a moment, before Dean hears the familiar clicking of his lock being picked. “You better be okay when I get this door open, Dean,” he hears Sam mumble. “Or I swear, I’ll...I…” That does it. Dean stands and unlocks the door. He keeps his eyes trained on the ground as the door swings open.

“Hey, Sammy…” he says, his voice hoarse as he tries to force a smile. He fails miserably, and Sam’s arms are around him before he realises what’s happening.

“Dean…” he whispers, and Dean realises he’s crying. Awesome. Another thing that Dean’s managed to ruin. His brother’s happiness. “Please don’t do it, Dean, please don’t…” Sam wails against Dean’s shoulder. Dean shakes his head ever so slightly.

“You weren’t supposed to know, Sam...” Dean says softly, the tears in his own eyes wanting to spill over. “You weren’t supposed to know…”

“C-cas texted me,” Sam explains, still refusing to let Dean go. “He said you were acting weird and then he said that it sounded like you were gonna...like you were saying goodbye, and I...Dean, _please!”_

Dean swallows, the tears spilling over. “I’m not gonna do it,” he reassures, and he thinks he means it. He can’t tell. “I won’t, Sammy, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Still, Sam refuses to let go. Dean has to push him away, but Sam won’t leave. “I’m staying with you.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m okay, I just need some time alone.”

“No! I’m not gonna leave you alone.”

“Sam…”

“I said no!”

Dean swallows, before nodding. “Okay…” He sighs, walking back to sit on the bed. “Okay.” He looks up as Sam moves to sit next to him. Sam gasps quietly when he notices the red on the floor. He doesn’t say anything about it. He just meets Dean’s eyes, looking like a sad puppy. “I’ll clean it later,” Dean assures, and he looks down after a moment. Neither brother says anything for a long while.

“I heard you and Dad last night,” Sam whispers after a moment, and Dean closes his eyes. Sam continues after a second. “I’m so sorry Dean, I should’ve done something about it when I heard…”

Dean shakes his head furiously. “No, you shouldn’t’ve. Don’t ever put yourself in danger like that, you hear?” He opens his eyes and looks at his brother. Sam says nothing, before nodding.

“Did he hit you?” he asks slowly after a moment. Dean swallows.

“Yeah. Just a couple times.”

Sam looks down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

Sam shakes his head. “Dean, it wasn’t.”

Dean inhales sharply. “Kinda is. I’m the one who turned out wrong.”

“You didn’t turn out _wrong,_ Dean. Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you turned out wrong. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Dean shakes his head. That isn't all he's talking about, but it's part of it. “Isn’t there?”

Sam looks at him, his eyebrows furrowing. “Would you say there’s something wrong with Charlie because she’s with Jo?”

Dean pauses, before shaking his head. “Of course not.”

“Then why are you any different?”

Dean says nothing.

“See? I’m right.”

Dean chuckles slightly at that. “Yeah, you always are, you nerd.”

Sam smiles slightly, wiping the remainders of tears from his face. “Jerk.”

Dean does the same. “Bitch.”

Silence. Then, “What happened with you ‘nd Cas?”

Dean sighs at Sam’s question, leaning back and lying down on the bed. “I did something I shouldn’t have. He got angry like he should have,” he answers. Sam nods.

“Are you two gonna be okay?” he asks gently, and Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know, Sammy. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Right, sorry. What do you wanna talk about?”

Dean looks at Sam. “How ‘bout you tell me about Eileen.”

Sam blushes bright red, and Dean smiles slightly. “Uh...how about I don’t?” Sam says, sticking his tongue out at Dean and crossing his arms angrily. Dean can’t help but laugh slightly. He’s starting to realise he might’ve been wrong. Maybe he does have some things to live for. So he’s going to keep holding on for as long as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things will probably start to look up soon after this chapter...
> 
> have an awesome day!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry i don't always answer y'all's comments, there's a lot going and i'm also just not very good at thinking of what to reply, but just know that all your comments are really appreciated, so thank you all <3
> 
> tws for mentions of suicidal ideation, self harm mention, rape/noncon mention, homophobia mention

Sam sleeps on the floor in Dean’s room every night that week, and Dean just lets him. He knows that Sam’s worried, and he knows that he has every right to be. He doesn’t hear from Castiel except for a text that says he’s still paying for Dean’s therapy sessions, and that his next one is scheduled for Friday evening. Neither Dean nor Castiel says anything about Dean’s texts from Sunday. And Dean decides it’s a good thing. He doesn’t know what he wants to say about it.

When Dean wakes up Friday morning, his back is stiff. He turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and just lying there. He really doesn’t want to get out of bed today. He hasn’t wanted to get out of bed any day since Sunday. He feels like he’s weighted down. Being crushed. He hates it almost more than he hates himself. He’s hanging on by a thread, he knows that. He doesn’t know how long that thread’s going to last, especially when he can’t go five minutes without thinking of pretty much everything that’s wrong in his life. It’s even worse in the evenings when his dad comes home. Dean avoids him as best as he can, but he catches a glare or a string of mumbled slurs every so often. It makes the weight heavier.

Dean forces himself to sit up, straightening his back and rolling his shoulders with a few faint cracks. There’s no school today, which explains why he sees Sam curled up in a pile of blankets on the floor, still asleep, and he can’t help but smile slightly. He grabs his phone and stands. His mouth opens in a silent yawn as he steps over his little brother carefully, reaching for the door handle. He leaves the room without a sound, and he heads through the hall and down the stairs to the kitchen. He remembers his appointment with Jody, and he swears under his breath. He’s not exactly looking forward to being grilled with questions at a time like this.

He puts on a pot of coffee, before leaning against the counter and glancing at the time on his phone. It’s not that late, but it’s late enough that his father should be gone. Thankfully. He shoves his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, turning his gaze to a spot on the kitchen table where sunlight is shining. He sighs gently, biting his lip and imagining he’s somewhere on that beam of sunshine, happy as a pig in the mud. Whatever the hell that means.

He’s pouring himself a mug of coffee when he hears footsteps on the stairs, and he freezes, muscles tensing up. “Morning,” he hears Sam say from behind him. He relaxes slightly, turning around with the mug in his hand.

“Morning, Sammy,” he answers quietly, sitting down at the table. Sam pours himself a cup of coffee and sits across from him.

“How’d you sleep?” Sam asks, smiling gently. Dean rolls his eyes slightly.

“Awful.”

“Nightmares?”

Dean nods, saying nothing. Sam knows now about Dean’s dreams. He just doesn’t know what they’re about. He doesn’t even know why Michael disappeared from school. And Dean has no plans of telling him any time soon.

“Wanna...talk about it?” Sam asks as he pours sugar into his coffee. Dean sighs.

“No,” Dean replies simply, taking a sip of his own coffee and nearly spitting it out as he realises too late that he’s forgotten to put sugar in it. Sam stifles a laugh in his hand. “Shut up and gimme that,” Dean mumbles, reaching over and taking the sugar from his brother. Sam stands up a moment later and reaches for a box of cereal on top of the fridge. Dean just watches in silence.

“Don’t you have an appointment with your counselor or something today?” Sam asks as he pours cereal into a bowl. Dean tenses up slightly.

“How the hell do you know about that?” he snaps, tapping his fingers against the table. Sam pours milk over his cereal before sitting back down.

“Cas texted me last night. Asked me how you were doing and told me to make sure you go.”

Dean bites his lip. “Oh.” He clears his throat slightly. “Did uh...what...does he usually ask about me…?”

Sam looks up from his cereal bowl, eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah, every night since Sunday, why…?” He raises an eyebrow, before smiling a bit. “Oooooh, okay. Never mind.”

Dean frowns as he takes a sip of coffee. “What do you mean ‘oh, okay, never mind’?” he says. Sam shakes his head.

“Nothing. Just…” He shrugs. “You know, he obviously still cares about you, whatever you did, so maybe you two should just...make up?”

Dean sighs. “It’s not that easy, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay, but he’s really cool and nice, and he’ll probably forgive you, so isn’t it worth a shot?”

“He won’t talk to me.”

“You mean he won’t text you.”

“Yeah. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Maybe you should talk to him in person?”

Dean looks down. “I tried. It didn’t go so well.”

Sam hums. “Well, I mean, if you already tried it _one time…”_

Dean stands up. “You know what, your sarcasm isn’t appreciated, so I’m gonna go upstairs and change, and you’re gonna shut your pie hole.” He takes his mug in his hand and makes his way towards the stairs, hearing a small chuckle from Sam as he does so. God, his brother is annoying at times. And sometimes, only sometimes, it’s because he’s right.

~~~

“How are you today, Dean?” Jody asks. Dean looks up at her, shrugging slightly as he gently tugs at his sleeve.

“Uh...I don’t know,” he says slowly, looking down again. He can’t really find it in him to lie at the moment. “Not...great.” He bites his lip. Jody hums.

“Are you still having nightmares?” she asks, and Dean nods hesitantly.

“But that’s not...it’s not the only reason. I can cope better with nightmares now. I wake up in a cold sweat and wanna puke my organs out, sure, but usually I’m okay after a few minutes.” He pauses. “Not okay, but able to deal without wanting to hurt myself or anything. It’s the nightmares on top of everything else that’s happening...” He shudders slightly, tugging again at his sleeves.

“Okay, can you tell me what else has happened since I last saw you? Because these nightmares and not being able to stop thinking about everything Michael did was what you told me was the main problem last session, and then there was the Thanksgiving thing that you said was kind of the cherry on top.”

Dean looks up. “Yeah, that’s...uh...it’s…” He shakes his head. “I-I fucked up with m...with Cas.” His voice shakes, and he shifts in the chair. Jody says nothing, so Dean glances at her. “I…” He can’t finish.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Jody assures, and Dean looks up at her. “Take your time.”

Dean swallows. “Okay.” He realises he’s squeezing the sides of the chair so hard his knuckles are going white, and he forces himself to let go. “I kissed him...I kissed Cas, and then...my dad...walked in and I…” He closes his eyes. “I pushed Cas away and I c...I called him a…” He shakes his head. “I insulted him for...for liking boys, I didn’t mean...didn’t want…” His voice shakes again, more than before. “I was afraid that my dad was gonna...like Thanksgiving…” He can feel tears stinging his eyes. “Fuck, sorry.”

Jody shakes her head. “No, don’t apologise.” She smiles gently. Dean nods.

“Cas always says that.” He shrugs. “Or said. I don’t know.”

Jody hums. “Can I ask why you kissed your friend Cas?”

Dean looks down, fumbling with his sleeves again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“That’s okay.” A pause. “How about we talk about how you keep messing with your sleeves?”

Dean freezes, before pulling his fingers away from his arm. “I...well afterwards…” His voice won’t stop shaking, but he forces himself to continue. “I went to apologise and when I came back...I told my dad that I still...that I kissed Cas first, and he got mad and he…” He shakes his head. “Thanksgiving 2.0,” he finishes, trying for a joking tone, but failing.

“How’d that make you feel?” Jody asks. Dean glances at her, before looking towards the window in her office.

“A-awful. I cried and I...I c...ut myself and then I…” He feels a single tear escape his eyes, and he quickly wipes it away. “I almost killed myself…” he whispers. Jody hums.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“What helped you hang on?”

Dean pauses. “My brother. I’d lost my dignity and control over my life and Cas and I thought I didn’t have anything but my brother just...he stopped me.” He swallows. “I don’t know what I was thinking now. I mean I kinda do, but I...I can’t leave Sammy.” He looks over at Jody, who nods.

“Okay...I’m gonna give you a challenge for next time I see you, ‘kay?”

“Sure.”

“If you can, I want you to every day until our next session, starting today, write down three things you’re thankful or happy for, or that you’re glad to be alive for. Everyday, three different things. No repeats.”

Dean scoffs. He can’t help it. “Sorry, I don’t think I have that many things.”

Jody only smiles gently. “Just try, Dean.”

“Fine. Guess I have to anyways.”

“No, no, it’s not something I’m forcing you to do, I’m not that mean. Just something I’m recommending, ‘kay?” she says. Dean sighs.

“Okay,” he mumbles.

~~~

  
When Dean gets home, he lets Sam know he’s home, before going up to his room. He closes the door, but not all the way. He opens his school bag that he hasn’t touched in weeks and pulls out a notebook. The Calculus one, because he has Calculus with Castiel. Or had. Either way, it reminds him of Castiel. He pulls out a pencil and moves to sit on his bed, and then he thinks. He then scrawls down the date, before pausing. He then writes down _‘Sammy’_ and _‘Cas’_ . He tries to think of a final thing to write down, and then he nods to himself as he thinks back to the sunbeam on the kitchen table from that morning. _‘Sunlight’._ It’s simple, but then again, it’s all he can think of right now. He then closes the notebook and shoves it under his pillow, before leaning back against the headboard and closing his eyes with a sigh. Another day over. He’s still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry for not always answering your comments, but i appreciate every one.
> 
> have a cosmic day!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little less angsty, so you're welcome
> 
> tws for slight mentions of suicidal ideation, slight rape/noncon mention

Dean doesn’t exactly know why he does it. Maybe it’s the lack of energy in his system because he couldn't sleep after a particularly bad nightmare. Maybe it’s the glasses of whiskey he had before going to bed. Maybe it’s just everything that’s going on. Maybe it’s what Sam said, or something Jody said. Maybe it’s absolutely nothing. Whatever it is, Dean’s now standing in front of Castiel’s house in the middle of Saturday night in his pajamas and a bathrobe, half frozen to death and tired as hell. His legs are numb and feel ready to turn to paper; he walked from his house to get here. He just stands there for a long time, shivering like crazy. Damn, it’s cold. Dean hates it, but he doesn’t know where to go from here. He’s still trying to figure out why he thought it was a good idea in the first place. He stands there a moment longer, before his legs are moving again, bringing him towards the front door. His hand reaches out towards the doorbell, shaking. Then he pauses. He doesn’t want to wake up someone who isn’t Castiel. So he closes his eyes, tries to think of where Castiel’s room is. He moves to the side of the house, looking up to the window he thinks is Castiel’s.

“Cas?” he calls gently, though he doesn’t know why. The wind is howling and there’s absolutely no way Castiel hears him. So after a moment, Dean looks around, picking up a stick off the ground a moment later. He tosses it at the window, hitting right next to it. “Cas,” he says, a little louder. Nothing happens. He looks around, picking up a stone off the ground and throwing it. It hits next to the window. Nothing happens again. “Dammit, Cas…” He picks up another rock and he feels ready to pass out as he throws it at the window. He hears a shattering noise, and he swears. A moment later, the window opens, and Castiel’s face peaks out.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice says calls, and Dean hates how _good_ it feels to hear it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” Dean starts, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I just...I need to talk to you.”

“So you break my window?”

Dean bites his lip. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

“There’s a _reason_ for that, Dean.” Despite the wind, Dean can still hear the venom in his voice. He swallows.

“I’m sorry.”

Castiel says nothing for a moment, and Dean looks down. He’s shaking more violently than before now. “Go to the front door, Dean…” Castiel finally says. Dean looks up in time to see the window close again, and Dean stands there for a moment, before obeying. The door opens moments after he gets there, and Castiel practically drags him inside. “Christ, Dean, did you _walk_ here?”

Dean tries to laugh, but it doesn’t work, so he just nods. “Yeah…wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Obviously.”

Dean sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” A pause. “Come on.” He takes Dean’s hand and leads him up to his room. Dean nearly falls over twice; he’s freezing and tired and quite possibly a bit drunk. “Christ, Dean, what's going on?” Castiel asks once they’re in the room. Dean shakes his head.

“Need to talk to you.” He looks around, spotting the rainbow flag back on the wall. “Oh, you hung it back up,” he thinks out loud, smiling slightly as Castiel sits him on the bed.

“Yes, Dean, I did,” Castiel answers as he pulls Dean’s bathrobe off and replaces it with a thick blanket. Dean looks at him.

“I’m glad.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel sighs. “Please stop saying that.”

“Okay.”

Silence.

“I need to talk to you.”

“You said, what about, though?”

Dean bites his lip. Silence stretches on as he thinks. What about? There’s so much he wants to say. He doesn’t know how to say more than half of it, but he wants to try. He needs to try. He needs to try to fix things, because he doesn’t want Cas to be gone from his life. Because he loves him too much to let him go, whether that’s a good or a bad thing. He thinks now that he can probably live without Castiel. He has Sammy and Charlie and fucking sunlight to live for. But that doesn’t mean he wants to live without Castiel. He’d much rather have him than not. “I...I know I said it was okay if you didn’t forgive me but I’m...I was wrong.” He looks down. Castiel says nothing, so Dean keeps talking. “I know what I did was...was stupid and I fucked up and I know that.”

“Yeah,” Castiel’s voice cuts in, and Dean looks at him.

“But…”

“But?”

Dean swallows, feeling his face heat up slightly. “You read the...you know how I feel.”

Castiel says nothing, before nodding. “I’d rather hear you say it out loud.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I…” He shakes his head, looking down and wanting to disappear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his eyes stinging with tears. He can’t bring himself to say it out loud. He has an irrational fear that his father is going to burst into the room if he does say it. He’s afraid of rejection. He’s afraid of everything. He just can’t say it out loud. He’s not ready. He wonders if he ever will be. “I can’t.” When he meets Castiel’s eyes again, they look sad. But Castiel nods.

“I…” he starts slowly. “Look, Dean. I understand why you said what you said.”

Dean feels a wave of relief wash over him, even though it’s not much.

“That doesn’t mean it hurts me any less. It doesn’t exactly mean I forgive you. But I…I don’t enjoy being on bad terms. I enjoyed what we had. Our…friendship.” There’s hesitance in his voice. “So...I think I can try to forgive you eventually.”

Dean smiles, and he’s hugging Castiel before he can stop himself. “Thank you…”

“Shut up, I’m still pissed at you. Very pissed at you. Don’t think I’m not.”

“That’s...that makes sense.”

“But we’re gonna try to work through it.”

“Thanks, Cas, really…”

“Stop thanking me, just...hating you is exhausting, so I’d rather not.” Castiel pulls out of Dean’s arms, his eyes still look sad, like he’s missing something. Dean thinks he knows what it is, and he hates himself for not being able to give it to him. “Let’s try to be friends again?” Castiel asks finally, and though almost nonexistent, there’s a small waver in his voice. It sounds hesitant, and almost hopeful. Like he’s almost hoping for more. Dean wants to kiss him, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s still afraid. Far too afraid.

“Let’s try to be friends again.”

~~~

When Dean wakes up the next morning, he feels two things: first, his head aching dully, and second, Castiel’s body next to him. Oh. Despite his headache and the slight uncomfortableness of his current position, Dean refuses to move, not wanting to wake Castiel up. Because it’s nice. As much as it sends Dean’s mind into alertness, it’s nice. Castiel’s body is warm. Not hot, just warm. Which is good, considering how cold the rest of the room is because of the rock-sized hole now in Castiel’s window. Castiel’s body is also solid, but in a soft way. Like a memory foam pillow. But so much better. Dean can hear Castiel’s breathing, and it’s calming somehow. Dean never wants to leave.

Something seems to shatter when he hears a phone vibrating. He thinks it’s his for a moment, and then he remembers how he got here. He hadn’t exactly bothered to grab his phone on the way out. The phone keeps buzzing, stopping after about a minute, before starting up again. Castiel stirs, and Dean swears under his breath, not wanting Castiel to move away from him. But Castiel does, reaching for his phone that’s sitting on the dresser by his bed and answering the call. “Hello?” he says lowly, and something about the sound of his voice just then sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and a rush of blood to his face. Damn. “No...no, he’s here,” Castiel says a moment later. “Don’t worry, he’s safe. He was frozen when he showed up, but he’s alright.” A pause. “I’ll send him home soon.” Another pause. “Alright, goodbye.” He hangs up, putting the phone back on the dresser, before collapsing back on the bed. Dean swallows.

“Who was it…?” he asks softly, and Castiel hums.

“Your brother. You left without telling him. He was panicking because he though you did something to yourself.”

Dean makes a silent ‘oh’ with his mouth, sitting up in the bed. “I should get back.”

“I’ll get Gabriel to drive you.”

“No, I can walk.”

“It wasn’t a damn question.”

Dean flinches slightly at the slight change in tone, but he forces a smile. “Okay, sorry mom,” he tries, managing a joking tone. Castiel just rolls his eyes, finally sitting up as well. 

“You’re irritating, you know that? And you broke my window. I don’t know why I’m even trying to fix things.” The words would be harsh if it weren’t for the small smile on Castiel’s face that lets Dean know he’s joking. Dean shrugs.

“Yeah, I know.” He feels like something’s shifted. He feels more hope again. He feels like he might have a chance to fix things. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll eventually be able to tell Castiel what he feels and say all he needs to say, face to face, without being afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things kinda seem to be looking up a bit? 
> 
> have a stellar day/night!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some uh...some angst, because yes.
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention, self harm mention, slight suicidal ideation, homophobia

Though it takes almost fifteen minutes, Dean finally allows himself to be convinced to borrow one of Castiel’s jackets. Because, in Castiel’s own words, ‘we can’t make up if you freeze to death’. Dean just laughs at that. Castiel doesn’t go with Dean when Gabriel drives him home, simply telling him to text him once he’s back at his house. The drive is driven in silence, with the occasional odd look from Gabriel. Dean can’t help but be thankful for Gabriel’s rather unusual silence; he’s tired and not in the mood to answer questions right now. When he gets home, Sam yells at him, before hugging him and begging him not to run off without telling him again. Dean apologises and agrees, and they watch movies and eat snacks until their dad gets home, at which point Dean just goes up to hide in his room. He doesn’t eat dinner. He just waits until it’s late enough to go to bed, before wrapping himself up in his blankets and staring out the window at the small snowflakes that have started falling until he can’t keep his eyes open. He dreams of unwanted hands over his body. Again.

The next morning, Dean wakes up to the feeling of someone shaking him. He opens his eyes, rolling them slightly as he sees Sam. “What…?” he mumbles, rolling over and burying his head in his pillow.

“Just thought I’d warn you that dad has off work today and the rest of the week…” Sam says quietly. Dean sits straight up, his head nearly hitting Sam’s. No, no, no, he can’t deal with that. He can’t avoid his father for a whole week. God, what is he supposed to do? Run away? He can’t leave Sam. But he doesn’t know what to do if he stays either. Dammit, what’s happening?

“What the hell, why?” he asks, realising he’s suddenly both terrified and angry.

“For...Christmas break,” Sam replies slowly. Dean shakes his head.

“Shit, it’s almost Christmas already?” he says, forcing himself to push the blankets off of his body. “Jesus.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Sam sighs.

“I’m sorry, Dean…”

Dean waves his hand. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.” He tries to sound as reassuring as he can. Sam nods.

“Okay...sorry I woke you up…” He shrugs. “Except it’s almost two, so.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He waits for Sam to leave, before closing his door and changing out of his pajamas and into some normal clothes. All the while he tries to figure out what he’s going to do for the rest of the week. He could try to just stay in his room. He has his phone, he could probably keep himself distracted for a while. But he knows he can’t avoid his father forever, he knows he’s going to have to interact with him eventually, and Dean’s not looking forward to it at all. He’s going to put it off as long as he can. 

He picks up his phone and starts typing a message to Charlie, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

‘hey charlie, wyd?’

He waits a minute or two, before a response comes.

‘enjoying the first day of Christmas break, wbu?’

Dean smiles slightly.

‘nothing much’

He considers telling her about everything that’s happened, but he can’t bring himself to. Not quite yet. It’s just not the right time. So he types something else instead.

‘hey, i feel like we haven’t talked much lately, are you free?’

There’s a pause before the reply comes.

‘not rn, I’m hanging out w/ Jo, sorry :(‘

‘that’s okay’

‘maybe tomorrow??’

‘sure’

‘your place at two?’

‘sounds good’

‘cool, see you then, dingus’

‘shut up’

Dean smiles as he stares down at the conversation. He feels a bit better, knowing he has something to look forward to tomorrow. It makes everything a bit more bearable.

~~~

When Dean finally gathers the courage to walk downstairs to eat something at around six in the evening, his dad is sitting at the table in the kitchen. Like he’s waiting for him. Fucking hell. Dean tries to back out before his dad notices. “Dean.” Too late. Dean slowly steps back into the kitchen, and his lungs suddenly feel like they don’t have enough oxygen. “Siddown.”

Dean swallows and nods, moving to sit across from his father. His heart’s going miles inside his chest, and he feels ready to pass out. But he sits as upright as he can, and he forces himself to make eye contact.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” It’s not a question. So Dean doesn’t act like it is.

“Yessir,” he says quietly. His father nods slightly.

“We need to have a conversation.”

Dean nods. “About what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Dean, you know what.”

“Sorry.”

There’s a short moment where neither says anything. It’s only a few seconds, but it feels like the longest time in Dean’s life. They just stare at each other, and Dean feels like his soul is ebbing away. Like he’s being drained. He feels sick and he just wants to run away. “Why’d you do it, Dean?”

Dean swallows. He considers asking what, but he knows what his dad’s talking about. He looks down. “Because I wanted to.”

His father scoffs and makes a face, and it makes Dean flinch slightly. “How can you _ want _ to do  _ that _ ?”

Dean knows he should just shut up and say it won’t happen again, but he can’t stop himself. He just has too much to say and too many feelings and he feels like a pot of water that’s boiling over. “Because he’s pretty damn cute,” he says, making eye contact again. His father’s hands are grabbing the front of his flannel and pulling him out of his seat before he can pull away.

“You better watch your fucking mouth, boy,” he growls. Dean swallows hard, his heart pounding. He tries to pull away, but he can’t. The side of the table digs uncomfortably into his thigh.

“Sorry, I’m sorry…” he whispers.

“You better not talk to that fag ever again.”

Dean shakes his head. “I...I can’t do that.” His dad let’s him go. Dean takes a few steps back, not quite understanding.

“Then get out of this fucking house.”

The words hit harder than any slap ever could. It  _ hurts. _ Dean shakes his head slightly, eyes widening, because he doesn’t want to believe it. He  _ can’t _ believe it. His dad wouldn’t do that. He’s many things, but he’s not cruel. Not like that.

“Dad…” Dean starts slowly, trying to stay as calm as he can. He’ll fix this. He has to. “Dad, I-”

“Get out.”

Sam runs into the kitchen a few seconds later, looking pale as a sheet. “Dad, you can’t do that!” he says, “Please, don’t-”

“Go to your room, Sam,” their father interrupts. Sam goes quiet, looking at Dean, and Dean nods.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” he assures. “Go.”

Sam nods once, looking at their dad, before heading out of the kitchen. Dean feels alone when he does, but it’s better that he’s gone. He refuses to let Sam get in the way and possibly get hurt because of his own mistakes.

“Dad, listen to me...just calm down, alright?” Dean tries. “We can talk about this.”

“We’re past talking, either never see the queer again or get outta here!” his father yells, and Dean flinches. 

Shit.

This can’t be happening. Maybe it’s just another nightmare. Maybe his dad’s just not thinking and will be fine in a few hours. Maybe Dean just needs to go back to his room. But the look on his father’s face tells Dean that this is serious. He means it.

Dean looks around, trying to think about what to do. “I-I can’t just leave, where am I s’posed to go?”

“Figure it out.”

Dean swallows hard, before nodding once. He glances at the Impala’s keys sitting on the table. “Okay,” he says, his voice a small whisper as he feels tears sting his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do. Is he just supposed to leave? Maybe go to Castiel’s house again?

He eyes the keys again, before looking down. Without warning, he quickly makes a dive for the keys, grabbing them so hard they dig into his hand, before running towards the door. He hears his dad shouting at him, screaming at him not to take the car and to give the keys back. Dean just runs, opening the door and not bothering to close it as he runs towards the car. He gets in and locks the door, before putting the keys in the ignition as quickly as he can. His dad is right up next to the car when he manages to turn the key, and then he’s driving off, the tears spilling from his eyes. Shit, no, no, no, this can’t be happening, it must all be a bad dream. He keeps trying to tell himself that as he drives. But no matter how many times he tries to wake up, he can’t. Because there’s nothing to wake up to. This is real.

He considers going to Castiel’s house. He thinks of how nice it was to sleep next to Castiel and how safe he feels with him. But he also thinks of how they’re only just restarting their friendship, and how he shouldn’t be bothering Castiel. Not now. Not with this. He could go to Charlie’s, but she’s not out to her foster parents, so he doesn’t know how they’d react to his story. So he just drives and drives until around ten, at which point he parks in the darkest corner of an empty parking lot and lies down on the seat of the car. He gets cold quickly, because the car’s off, but he refuses to turn the car back on. He doesn’t have a razor, so letting himself freeze is the next best thing.

He dozes off every so often, only to wake up again. He shakes like crazy from the cold, and he wonders if he’ll even wake up tomorrow or if he’s going to freeze to death. He wouldn’t necessarily object. His father’s words scream at him in his head. He can barely believe he’s really here, trying to fall asleep in his fucking  _ car. _ He hates it. Hates himself. If he’d just kept his mouth shut.

He eventually falls asleep, and he dreams of nothing that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happiness is coming eventually, y'all, i promise, just not yet, i'm so sorry...


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go...
> 
> tws for slight suicidal ideation, rape/noncon mention

When Dean wakes up, he can’t move. It’s mostly from the cold that’s found its way into his body and stiffened his muscles, but part of it is just that he doesn’t _want_ to move once he realises where he is and remembers what happened. Everything hurts, and he doesn't even know what he would do if he could move. It’s not like he has anywhere to go. His stomach feels like he’s swallowed cement, and Dean closes his eyes again, hoping to sleep again and escape the cold for a moment longer. Or even better, forever.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and Dean slowly opens his eyes. He doesn’t move. The phone stops, and then it starts up again. Dean tries to move, and he manages to painfully, slowly sit up. His fingers are completely numb as he pulls his phone out. It’s already buzzing for the third time when he manages to check who’s calling. Sam. Dean shakes his head slightly. He can’t talk to Sam. Not like this. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He doesn’t know what he wants. Nothing, probably. He just feels cold and miserable, and there’s nothing he can think of that would make him feel better. Not Sam, not Charlie, not Cas. God, how did this all happen?

Dean looks back down at his phone, pulling down the notifications bar with numb fingers. Ninety seven texts. Twenty seven missed calls. Twelve voice messages. Dammit. He looks through a few of the texts, from Sam, Cas, Charlie. Even a few from his dad. He doesn’t read those. He pulls up his voicemail and listens to the first message.

**_‘Message from “Sammy” at 8:32pm:_ ** _Dean? It’s Sam. Please...please call me back when you can. I know this sucks, but it’ll be okay. Let me know if you’re okay and where you are, please? Please, Dean...I’m gonna try to convince dad to see sense, I’m gonna get you back home, I promise. Call me back._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

Dean shakes his head as he moves on to the next message. “Dammit, Sammy, just leave it be…” he whispers, as if his brother will somehow hear him.

_‘_ **_Message from “Sammy” at 10:57pm:_ ** _Dean. It’s me again. Dad’s passed out drunk, but I’m gonna talk to him first thing in the morning, okay? I’m gonna fix this. Stay safe, please. Call me soon._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

Dean swears, before blowing on his fingers in an attempt to warm them. He feels like he’s made of wood as he shifts to turn the keys in the car and start the heating.

_‘_ **_Message from “Charlie” at 11:05pm:_ ** _Hey, it’s Charlie, Sam just texted me what happened, are you okay? You aren’t answering my messages, and Sam says you haven’t called him back, so I’m kinda freaking out a little bit. Please let us know that you're okay and stay safe, Dean. Let me know if you need anything._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

Dean sighs as the warmer air starts blowing in the Impala, slowly melting what feels like ice in his joints as he listens.

_‘_ **_Message from “Cas” at 11:06pm:_ ** _Hello, Dean, it’s Castiel...your brother told me what happened, I’m so sorry. Please, if you need somewhere to stay, you’re welcome at my house. You should call your brother back, he’s worried. Just tell us if you’re safe. Be careful, Dean. Call me if you need anything at all._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

_‘_ **_Message from “Sammy” at 11:35pm:_ ** _You aren’t talking to anyone, Dean, I’m worried. Please call me. Just...please. You better be okay, stupid...God, Dean, just be okay._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

_‘_ **_Message from “Charlie” at 12:07am:_ ** _Charlie again. I’m going to bed, but there better be a message or a call from you by tomorrow, you bitch. Call me. Or Sam. Just let us know you’re okay. Be safe._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

_‘_ **_Message from “Cas” at 1:52am:_ ** _Dean. I’m now telling you to please come to my house. Or call someone. At least text your brother and let us know where you are or if you’re alright. We’re worried. I’m worried. Please, Dean, you need to be safe. Your brother needs you safe...I need you safe. Please._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

Dean would probably be crying at this point if the cold didn’t inhibit his ability to do pretty much anything. The worry in Castiel’s voice in that message both confuses Dean and fills him with relief. He can’t quite say why. He takes a deep breath as the next message starts playing.

**_Message from “Cas” at 4:29am:_ ** _I don’t know if you’re even hearing these messages. But I hope you’re alright. Please, just...be careful. Don’t do anything that...stay safe. Just stay safe. Christ, Dean, please._ **_End of message._ ** _’_

_‘_ **_Message from “Sammy” at 7:14am:_ ** _Where are you? Dean, please, please, please call me, I’m so worried, please...I’m gonna talk to dad and we’ll figure something out, but call me, please. Be careful._ **_End of message_ ** _.’_

Dean shakes his head and glances at the time. 7:21am. He doesn’t listen to the rest of the messages, immediately moving to call Sam as quickly as he can. He closes his eyes as the phone rings, hoping it’s not too late to talk Sam out trying to convince their father to let Dean go back home. He knows how his dad can get. Especially when drunk or with a hangover. He doesn’t want Sam to get yelled at, or worse. When he hears Sam pickup, he sighs gently. **“Dean?”** comes Sam’s voice. “ **Dean, are you okay?** ”

Dean swallows. “Yeah, a little cold, but…” he says, trying for a light-hearted tone, but his voice is hoarse and breathy from last night’s crying and the cold. He clears his throat. “I’m alive, Sammy, I’m okay.”

**“Where are you?”**

“I said I’m okay.”

**“Dammit, Dean, please.”**

Dean swallows, turning to look out the window. “I don’t know...my windows are all frosted and fogged up…” He coughs once, then again, and then he’s coughing up a storm. Shit. “That’s new…” he says quietly once he manages to stop coughing.

**“Dean…?”**

“I’m fine…” He coughs again, quieter than before, but still pretty damn hard.

**“Okay, look, I think I’m getting somewhere with dad, so just hold on a bit, and then call me again, okay?”**

“What?” Dean shakes his head. “Sam, don’t, don’t try it, just leave it, I’ll be fine.”

He hears a small scoff on Sam’s end. **“No, Dean, I’m gonna change his mind, I’m close, I know it.”**

“No, Sam, don’t. You said he was drunk last night, he’s probably not in the mood, just-”

**“I’m gonna talk to him. I’ll text Cas and Charlie about you, okay? Go to one of their houses. Call me later. Be safe.”**

“Sam?” The line goes dead. Dean swears. “Sammy?” He hits the dashboard. “Dammit!” He starts coughing again, and he nearly drops his phone as it starts to vibrate again. He manages to catch it and answers quickly, his limbs working better now that he’s warmer. “Hello?” he rasps, forcing himself to stop coughing.

**“Dean?”** Castiel’s voice comes, all rough and soft at the same time. **“Are you alright, where are you?”**

Dean coughs, before swallowing. “I’m fine. Just a little…” He pauses. “Not.”

**“Where are you?”** Castiel repeats.

“Gimme a sec-” Dean starts coughing again as he opens the door to his car, and he notices that there are more cars in the parking lot now. “Uh...The Forest Coffee Shop on…” He looks around, trying to find a street sign. He shakes his head, coughing again and wincing. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, I...just….”

**“Okay, can you come over?”**

“No, I’m-” Cough. “I’m okay, Cas-” Cough, cough. “Really.” Cough. He doesn’t completely know why he’s trying to convince Castiel that he’s fine. He’s not, and he usually lets Castiel know that. Just something about this feels worse. He doesn’t want Castiel to see him like this. Doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.

**“My ass. Either come over or I’ll find you and drag you back to my house.”**

Dean sighs, finally giving in. There’s not much he can do anyway. “Fine…” he mumbles as he moves over slightly to sit on the driver’s side. His phone starts buzzing again. “Shit, Cas, hold on, someone else is calling, see you soon…” He hangs up on Castiel, before answering the other call. He sighs when he hears Charlie’s voice.

**“Dean, oh my God, you’re alive…”** she says, and Dean can’t help but laugh a bit, which ends up turning into a fit of coughs.

“Yeah…” he says when he can finally speak again. “I’m okay,” he lies.

**“Where are you?”**

“Some coffee shop. I’m going to Cas’ place soon, though.”

**“Okay, good…”** A pause. **“You scared the shit outta us, Dean...”**

Dean feels a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry…”

**“No, don’t apologise, just...tell someone you’re okay next time. Please.”**

“I will. I promise. Though hopefully there won’t be a next time...” He starts coughing again, and he hears Charlie sigh on the other end.

**“Oh my God, Dean, you sound awful...you should see a doctor.”**

Dean shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, just need-” Cough. “Some water.”

**“I still think you should see a doctor or something.”** She goes quiet for a moment. **“Dean, I’m so sorry.”**

Dean bites his lip. “It’s fine.”

**“It’s not. You don’t deserve this.”**

“Don’t I…?” Dean mutters under his breath, voice shaking, before quickly adding, “I gotta go...gotta drive to Cas’.” 

**“Dean, don’t you dare-”**

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “I’ll be okay. Love you. Bye.” He hangs up before Charlie can say anything else. He feels awful for it, but he can’t talk to her like this. He knows he’s being selfish. He knows he’s being a terrible person. He hates himself on every single level possible, but he’s almost too tired to care at this point. So he just starts driving.

~~~

The door to Castiel’s house opens, and the first thing Dean notices is how tired Castiel looks. His hair’s more of a mess than usual, and there are the faint outlines of dark circles under his eyes, and the loose t-shirt he’s wearing is wrinkled in a thousand different places, like he’s been tossing and turning all night. Dean clears his throat slightly, forcing a small smile as he meets Castiel’s eyes. “You look like hell,” he mutters, trying to sound like he’s joking. Castiel’s arms are around him moments later.

“You look worse,” Castiel whispers gently in Dean’s ear, and Dean shudders, half from the whisper and half from the cold. He forces a broken laugh, trying his best not to start coughing.

“Wow, you really know how to charm a guy, huh.”

“Shut up and come in.” Castiel pulls away, grabbing one of Dean’s frigid hands and pulling him inside. Dean doesn’t object. He lets Castiel lead him through his house up to his room, and the most overwhelming feeling of déjà vu washes over him. He tries to shake it off. “What do you need?” Castiel asks gently, his hand still clasped loosely around Dean’s. Dean shakes his head slightly.

“Don’t know…” he mumbles, before pulling his hand away and coughing into the crook of his elbow.

“I’ll get you some water.” Castiel disappears, leaving Dean alone. Dean sits on the bed when he manages to stop coughing. Castiel comes back a moment later and hands Dean a glass of water. Dean accepts it with a small nod and takes a drink, nearly spitting it out when he does.

“Why is it warm…?” he chokes out, nearly breaking into another coughing fit. Castiel sits on the bed next to him and tilts his head slightly.

“It’ll help,” he says gently, and Dean’s brow furrows. Castiel sighs. “It will. Just drink.”

Dean bites his lip, before taking another drink of the warm water. It tastes strange in his mouth, but it does feel good when he swallows it, the warmth making his throat not feel as scratchy. “Thanks…” he mumbles, looking down.

"Anything else?"

"My phone's dying. I need to call Sammy again. I tried to call him on the way. He wouldn't answer."

"You can borrow mine."

"Thanks." He feels Castiel’s hand on his back.

“Of course.” Castiel pulls his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and hands it to Dean. Dean looks for Sam's number and calls it. There's no answer. He sighs and hands the phone back to Castiel.

"He's not answering."

"I'm sure he's fine."

Dean can only hope Castiel's right.

"Let's drive over later, alright? We can check."

Dean gives a small nod. "Okay."

Silence. Then, “Dean. I’m so sorry.”

Dean shakes his head. “It’s not like it’s your fault, my dad’s just…” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t really know how to. Castiel hums. There’s another moment of silence.

“Sam says you could have stayed. All you would’ve had to do was stay away from me.”

Dean swallows, taking another sip of warm water. “I...yeah. But you know I wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“Wouldn’t you?”  
  


“No.”

The room goes quiet, and the silence isn’t calming or awkward. It’s just quiet. All Dean hears is the distant sound of cars driving outside and his own slightly raspy breathing.

“Cas, I…” he starts. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Castiel says, and he sounds genuinely confused. Dean sighs.

“Just...for being such a burden. For everything. For being stupid and letting you get dragged into my problems. For…” He swallows. “I know you said to stop apologising for insulting you, but I’m sorry for that, too. And I’m sorry you have to deal with all my shit. Maybe I should’ve just said I would stay away from you.”

“Dean..."

"Maybe you shouldn't have stopped Michael from raping me at that party. It would’ve made your life so much easier."

Castiel looks appalled. "Don’t say that.” He shakes his head. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Why? We both know it’s true.”

Castiel opens his mouth, like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t say anything. Dean nods slightly, smiling sadly at him as if to say ‘see?’, before looking down at the glass of water in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter took me longer than usual to write, but here we are...
> 
> have a superb day/night <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> salutations, here is another chapter!
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention

“You got the window fixed,” Dean says slowly. He’s finished the water. His voice isn’t as hoarse now, but his throat still hurts and he’s still coughing a bit. He and Castiel have been sitting on Castiel’s bed in complete silence for God knows how long. Dean hears Castiel shift next to him, and he looks over at him. Their eyes meet. Castiel’s look just as beautiful as ever, and Dean thinks he might just pass out. 

“Yes,” Castiel says simply.

“Good,” Dean says, before coughing a couple times. Castiel hums. There’s another moment of silence. Dean’s about to ask if they can stop by his house and check on Sam now when a phone starts ringing. It can’t be his; his phone is dead and charging in the corner of the room. So it’s Castiel’s. Dean watches as Castiel answers, hoping to God that it’s Sam on the other end.

“Hello?” Castiel says. Dean’s holding his breath. Or maybe he isn’t. He can’t tell. “Yes, he’s alright...that was Dean calling...yes, he’s here.” Castiel looks up at Dean. “I’ll let him talk to you.” He hands Dean the phone, his lips mouthing ‘your brother’. Dean all but snatches the phone into his hands and puts it up to his face.

“Sammy?” he says.

**“Yeah,”** Sam says, and Dean sighs. **“Dean, listen-”**

“Jesus, Sam, don’t ever do that again.”

A pause. **“What?”**

“Don’t say you’re gonna do something stupid like talk to dad and then just disappear like that.”

**“That’s kinda what you did last night.”**

Dean tenses up slightly. “Shut up,” he says through clenched teeth.

**“Sorry,”** Sam says **. “That wasn’t...that was a low blow, sorry.”**

Dean closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s fine, just...are you okay?”

**“Yeah. He was kinda pissed that I brought it up, he was yelling and stuff, but he didn’t do anything.”**

“Thank God.”

**“I couldn’t convince him to let you back home, though...”** Sam says slowly. **“I’m sorry, Dean.”**

Dean sighs. He’s disappointed, but he wasn’t really expecting Sam to get anywhere with his father anyway. And none of it is worth Sam getting hurt or in trouble for. “It’s fine, just forget it. I’ll figure something out.”

**“Dean…”**

“I said forget it, Sammy.” He pauses, because he feels like he’s about to start coughing. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Just let it be. Please. Don’t be stupid.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and Dean glances at Castiel, who’s watching him intently. Dean’s face feels warmer suddenly, and he looks away, trying to focus on the phone. Sam finally answers after a sigh. **“Fine,** ” he says softly. Dean nods.

“Swear.”

**“Okay, okay, I swear.”**

Dean sighs with relief. “Thank you.”

**“‘Course.”** There’s a pause. **“Stay safe…”**

“You first.”

Sam chuckles quietly on the other end, and Dean can’t help but smile slightly. **“I mean it, Dean.”** A pause. **“I’ll try to come ‘nd see you as soon as I can. Just stay at Cas’, okay?”**

Dean bites his lip. “Okay. Miss you.”

**“Miss you, too.”** Another pause. “ **I gotta go. Talk to you soon?”**

“Yeah, definitely. G’bye, Sammy.”

**“Bye, Dean.”**

He hangs up with a sigh, before slowly handing the phone back to Castiel. Dean avoids Castiel’s gaze when he takes his phone, saying nothing. The silence stretches on for what must be almost five minutes before Castiel speaks. “Dean?” his voice mumbles softly. Dean shudders. He’s starting to notice how it sounds just a little different when Castiel says his name than when everyone else does. He loves it. “Are you alright?” He sounds concerned. Dean shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he answers simply, clearing his throat. Castiel’s hand rests gently on his back.

“Do you need anything? More water? Some tea?”

Dean makes a face. “Tea’s disgusting.”

Castiel laughs quietly. “Water, then.”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “I’m good, Cas.”

“Alright.”

“I’m just…” He shakes his head. “I’m worried. I know it’s kinda stupid, but I feel like something’s gonna happen now that I’m not there to look after Sam.” He realises he’s finally looking at Castiel. “I know he can take care of himself and that he’s probably gonna be fine, but I can’t...I don’t know.

Castiel nods. “It’s not stupid. You just care about him. It’s normal. Just don’t let it affect you too much.” He smiles. “Try and remember that he’s fine and you can call him anytime.”

Dean sighs, nodding. He wants to look down, but can’t tear his eyes away. “Okay.”

~~~

“Are you still awake?”

The question catches Dean off-guard, and he starts. It’s late. He doesn’t know how late. They spent the day watching TV, playing video games, coughing, calling Sam one more time, and talking about anything and everything. Now he and Castiel are in bed. The same bed. Lying right next to each other. The room is dark, illuminated only by small slivers of light shining in from street lamps outside. Dean’s wearing some sweatpants and a t-shirt that Castiel let him borrow, and the sweatpants are ever so slightly too tight. He hasn’t even tried to sleep despite the way his eyes want to close. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s afraid of something. Of dreams. He can’t tell, but he’s awake. And apparently, Castiel is, too. “Yeah, Cas,” Dean whispers, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling.

“Have you slept at all?” Castiel’s voice whispers, and Dean shakes his head.

“Nope.” He takes a deep breath, before sighing and stealing a glance in Castiel’s direction.

“You should sleep.”

Dean looks at him. His eyes seem like blue fire in the dark. Maybe that’s just Dean’s imagination. “I will. Eventually.”

Castiel hums, and Dean closes his eyes at the sound. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Dean’s eyes open. “Huh?”

“What’s on your mind?”

Dean shakes his head slightly, looking back up at the ceiling. “Just...thinking.”

“A dangerous passtime.”

“Did you just quote Gaston at me?”

Castiel chuckles. “Actually, LeFou said that.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

He hears Castiel sigh next to him. “What about, if I may ask?”

“Just. Everything.” He bites his lip, saying nothing for a moment. “About Sammy. About my dad. About all this. About you. About...Michael.”

“Dean…” Castiel whispers, but says nothing more, so Dean continues.

“I still think about him. More than you’d think. I still dream about him and everything he did, and even the things he didn’t do but probably wanted to. I still...still feel his hands on me sometimes.” He inhales sharply. “I can still hear his voice. His words. And even though it’s been a while since all that happened, since he left, since I deleted his damn number from my phone, it still...he still haunts me. And then on top of that, there’s...my dad kicking me out and saying he’s disappointed in me, me just overall fucking everything up, and…” He glances at Castiel. “My feelings for you.” He says it so quietly, he wonders if Castiel even hears. “It’s just all so much,” he finishes. Nothing happens for a few seconds, and then he feels Castiel’s hand on his under the blankets. He flinches slightly, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry, I wish there was something I could do,” Castiel says. Dean sighs, turning on his side to face him.

“Kiss me?” he asks in a whisper, followed by a conveniently loud cough or two. Castiel turns to look at him.

“What?” He seems confused, and Dean wonders if he’s heard and is pretending he didn’t, or if he genuinely didn’t hear the words.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Silence. Dean turns back to face the ceiling.

“Night, Cas.”

“Dean?”

Dean doesn’t look at him. “Yeah?”

Castiel says nothing for a moment, before he drops Dean’s hand. “Wake me if you need anything.”

Dean does turn his head at that. “Okay, sure thing…” he mumbles. Castiel smiles at him. Dean smiles back, and as he watches Castiel turn his back to him, he opens his mouth again to speak. “Actually, Cas…?” he starts, and Castiel turns. Their eyes meet.

“Yes?” Castiel says. Dean takes a deep breath, before tentatively taking Castiel’s hand in his. He can’t help the small sense of relief that passes over him when Castiel doesn’t pull away. He watches as Castiel closes his eyes, before doing the same, their hands still clasped together.

“Night.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sweet dreams.”

~~~

Dean doesn’t remember what he dreamed when he wakes up the next morning, but it must’ve been sweet in some way, because he’s smiling when he wakes up. He feels happy, too. It’s a strange feeling compared to weeks of dreaming of unwanted hands all over him. A strange but good feeling.

It takes him a moment to remember where he is, but when he does, he turns his head to see Castiel still lying in bed next to him. And holy fuck, is he a sight for sore eyes. His face looks beautiful. It always does, but something about it being completely relaxed while he’s asleep is just breathtaking. Castiel’s laying on his stomach. They’ve let go of each other’s hands, but Castiel’s arm is laid across Dean’s, hand resting on Dean’s shoulder. It’s truly an amazing thing to wake up to. For a moment, Dean forgets everything else, and he smiles slightly, hesitantly reaching over with one hand to run his fingers through the softness of Castiel’s hair and over the bridge of his nose. Then he pulls away quickly, slowly moving Castiel’s arm off of him and turning over so his back is facing the beautiful person in bed next to him. And then everything starts to catch up to him, like a slow punch to the stomach.

He can’t go home.

As if it comes along with everything else, Dean starts coughing like he’s dying, and he sits straight up in bed. He coughs into the crook of his elbow as he feels Castiel stir next to him and curses himself. This day is off to a _great_ start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀👀👀
> 
> i hope you are all doing well and keeping safe, have an astounding day <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀👀👀
> 
> tws for slight mention of suicidal ideation

Dean doesn’t leave Castiel’s room all day. Castiel does, because Christmas is in two days, and he has things to do. And a family to spend time with. Dean knows it’s selfish, but he feels lonely when Castiel is gone. He feels wrong. Castiel offers to introduce Dean to the rest of his family, to which Dean says he’d rather not. He doesn't want to bother them any more than he has to. He doesn’t want to be more of a burden. Plus, he’s terrified of Castiel’s parents hating him. He wonders if Castiel’s told them about what Dean said. He doesn’t want to face them if he has. Because he’s a coward. Oh well. At least he doesn't want to die.

Castiel comes up to check on him every once in a while, bringing up warm water and a snack or two, asking him if he needs anything. Dean says he doesn’t need anything at all, that he’s fine. He doesn’t eat. His mind is too occupied to make him feel hungry. So he just thanks Castiel, and then he watches him leave without a word. And then again and again. Castiel comes up at about seven.

“You,” he states as he walks into the room. “You should join us for dinner.” Dean can’t help but smile slightly as he shakes his head.

“Oh, no, I’m good,” he says, looking down. “Don’t wanna intrude on your family di-”

“Dean Winchester, join us for dinner or I’ll kick your ass.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Mr Novak, I’d like to see you try.”

Castiel giggles. “Did you really just call me Mr Novak?”

“You called me by full name, that’s what you get.”

“Okay, Dean Winchester.” He looks serious again. “Please come down for dinner now.”

Dean laughs. “I’m not gonna interrupt your family time, Cas, just drop it.”

Castiel clicks his tongue. “That’s  _ Mr Novak _ to you.” He grabs Dean’s hand, trying to pull him off the bed where he’s sitting. “And you’re not interrupting, my parents want to meet you.” He pulls harder, and Dean falls forwards off the bed. Castiel falls on his ass with a small ‘oof’, and Dean falls on his hands and knees next to him.

“Jesus, Cas, what-”

“In fact, they insist,” Castiel interrupts. “They want to meet the person they’re letting stay at their house.” He smiles. Dean shakes his head slightly, staring at him.

“You’re crazy.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Castiel smiles, his nose scrunching up as he does. Dean finds it adorable. “Now come on,” Castiel orders. Dean bites his lip.

“Cas…” he says quietly. “I can’t.”

Castiel’s face changes. “Why not? Are you alright?” he asks, leaning forward slightly and placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t really know how to say it. He’s just afraid.

“I...they’ll hate me.”

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together. “Why would they hate you?”

Dean swallows. “Because of what...I said. To you.”

“Because of…?” Visible realisation floods over Castiel’s face. “Oh.” He looks down. Dean’s gut wrenches with guilt, and he wonders if he’s going to throw up if he moves.

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence. Then Castiel looks back up at Dean. “They won’t hate you, Dean.”

“Really? After...that?”

“I don’t hate you because of that. Why would they?”

Dean looks down. “Because.”

Castiel sighs. “Dean…” His hands under Dean’s chin a moment later, trying to make him look up. “They don’t know about that.”

Dean feels ready to cry.

“And if they did, they would have forgiven you already. I would have made sure of it.”

Dean’s bottom lip quivers. “Why?”

“Because I’ve forgiven you.”

Dean looks up at that. “Y-you have?”

Castiel nods gently. “Of course.”

Dean swallows and nods back. He’s hugging Castiel before he can stop himself, burying his face into his shoulder. “Thank you,” he mumbles, breathing Castiel in. He smells like flowers.

“Hey!” comes a voice from the door. Dean pulls away to see Gabriel leaning against the doorframe. Dean is suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that he and Castiel are still sitting on the floor, inches away from each other. “You two better be keeping it PG in here.”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hisses from next to Dean, and Dean hears him standing up next to him.

“What?” Gabriel asks innocently, a grin on his face. “Just making sure you’re not doing the deed with our guest.”

Dean feels his face go red, and he tries to ignore how it makes his stomach twist. He hears Castiel groan. “Gabriel, please, shut up now.”

Gabriel laughs. “Make me.”

“Leave!”

“Can’t, we live in the same house.”

“Gabriel!”

“Fine! I’m just letting you know that the burgers are ready, Cassie.” He disappears from the doorway, walking away from the room while singing ‘Be Our Guest’ as he goes.

“Sorry about him,” Castiel mumbles. Dean stands up, taking a deep breath.

“I-it’s fine,” he says. “Brothers are irritating.”

“Definitely.”

Dean sighs. He realises he really misses Sam. “Guess we should go to dinner…?”

Castiel smiles. “Let’s go.”

~~~

Dinner goes better than Dean expects. He meets Castiel’s younger sister, Anna, who keeps staring at him from across the table. Gabriel keeps kicking Castiel’s legs under the table, and Dean just feels awkward being there with the rest of Castiel’s family. But everyone is nice. Castiel’s parents are welcoming, and they don’t push or seem offended when Dean says he’s not hungry. Everything goes well, overall.

“See?” Castiel says when he and Dean walk back up to Castiel’s room. “They didn’t hate you.”

Dean rolls his eyes slightly. “Okay, fine, you were right,” he says, crossing his arms. “Mr Novak,” he adds. Castiel grins. Dean smiles back, before falling onto the bed with a sigh. He closes his eyes a moment. “Your sister was looking at me weird. Does that run in the family?” He feels the bed dent next to him, assuming Castiel has just sat down.

“I believe she thinks you’re cute.”

Dean sighs. “I’m not cute, I’m adorable,” he mumbles. Castiel giggles, and the sound makes Dean open his eyes and turn to look at him. “What?”

Castiel raises his hands like he’s under arrest. “Nothing, I’m not arguing.”

Dean rolls his eyes, feeling his cheeks go hot as he sits up. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Castiel scoffs. “What a kind compliment.”

Dean looks down. Castiel hums.

“Everything okay?” he asks gently. Dean shrugs.

“My dad kicked me out of my house. I’m doing just peachy,” he says, before shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s great here. I’m just kinda missing my house. And seeing you and Gabriel made me miss Sam, too.”

Castiel’s hand is on Dean’s shoulder a moment later. “It’ll be okay, Dean.”

Dean nods. “I know.” He’s not sure if he does. “I just...I’m glad I got you, I guess. I don’t really have much else.” He looks up to meet Castiel’s eyes. His heart sounds a bit louder in his ears. “Cas?”

Castiel nods slightly. “Hm?”

Dean bites his lip. He meant what he said. He doesn’t really have anything left except for Castiel. He knows he might get it back, eventually, but he doesn’t have it now. And something about that is giving him some sort of confidence. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have much to lose, or maybe it’s just his brain acting up, but he thinks he can say it. He thinks he’s ready. He opens his mouth slowly; his throat feels dry. “Cas, I…”

Castiel looks concerned, and Dean forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Cas.” He closes his eyes, taking Castiel’s hand in his. Just three words.  _ Three words. _

And then he panics.

"Thanks. For letting me stay,” he says, pulling his hand away. Castiel’s expression shifts to one of confusion.

“Of...course,” he says slowly. His smile looks weird. “You can stay as long as you need.”

Dean nods. “Thanks. I’m gonna...try to sleep.”

“Okay…” Castiel nods back, the confusion still visible on his face. “Goodnight, Dean.”

Dean swallows, moving to lie down on the bed. “G’night, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> patience is a virtue...
> 
> have a stunning day/night!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took longer than usual to post! things have been kinda crazy lately. stay safe everybody!
> 
> tws for rape/noncon mention

It’s Christmas Eve in a blink, and Dean has no idea how time manages to pass so fast. Two days, gone, and bam. Christmas Eve. It feels like a blur. Four things stand out most from that blur: the frustration at himself for not being able to spill an ounce of how he feels about Castiel in the entirety of those two days, the weight that seems to be crushing him every time he remembers why he’s at Castiel’s house in the first place, the cough that has now subsided, and the fact that at least Sam’s still okay. Other than that, everything is like time sped up.

Dean wakes up on the morning of Christmas Eve, and for once, Castiel isn’t still asleep next to him. He’s sitting at the foot of the bed, and he’s staring with those big blue eyes that make Dean want to swoon. Dean sits up as well, eyes fixed on Castiel like he might disappear if he looks away. “How long have you been awake?” he asks after a few moments of staring into each other’s eyes.

“Since six,” Castiel says simply, his mouth the only thing that moves while the rest of him stays still. Like a fucking statue. Dean turns his head to look at the clock on the bedside table. 8:12 am.

“Dude, have you been sitting there for two hours?” Dean looks back at Castiel, not knowing how to feel about that. Castiel shrugs slightly.

“Not quite, I did get a drink of water and go to the bathroom, before returning here to watch you sleep.”

“That’s way too much information, Cas, you sound like a creep.”

Castiel gives a cheeky smile. “Whoops.”

Dean rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Though he honestly doesn’t mind Castiel watching him sleep at this point. It’s not like he hasn’t done the same.

“I’ve been thinking, Dean,” Castiel says. Dean hums.

“Ooh, sexy.”

“Shut up, this is serious.”

Dean goes quiet, not willing to say aloud that he was being half serious. He leans forward towards Castiel slightly, who sighs and shifts on the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. That it would’ve been better if I’d never stopped Michael in the first place.”

Dean finally tears his gaze away, looking down as he remembers that morning. He still believes what he said to be true.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe my life would be easier.” Castiel pauses, and Dean’s stomach twists. Even though he knows it’s true, it still hurts to hear it said out loud. He hears Castiel shift on the bed, and then his hand is under Dean’s chin, imploring him to look up. Dean slowly does, meeting Castiel’s eyes. Castiel goes on. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Dean feels his eyes well up with tears, and he swallows. “Why?” he asks quietly, eyes still fixed on Castiel’s icy blue ones. Castiel runs his thumb gently over Dean’s lower lip, and Dean shudders.

“Because then something terrible would have happened to you. And I would never have known you as I do now, I wouldn’t have been able to help, and I wouldn’t have grown to love the beautiful person you are.”

Dean opens his mouth, again wanting to say those three words so badly. Castiel can say them. Well, not the exact words, but he’s confessed his feelings for Dean more than once. And Dean can’t do it. He said he loved Castiel through a damn text, and he can’t even say how he feels face to face. He’s still afraid. But Castiel, beautiful Castiel, perfect, breathtaking Castiel, he  _ knows _ that. It’s like he sees Dean’s soul, and he’s so patient. He doesn’t push Dean. He just waits. Dean’s afraid he’ll wait forever. He can’t let him wait forever. He needs to do something.

“I’m sorry…” Dean finally says. Castiel shakes his head, running his thumb over Dean’s lips one last time, before pulling his hand away.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Dean. It’s okay. I understand.”

Dean swallows.  _ He needs to do something. _ “Kiss me.”

Castiel tilts his head. “What?”

Dean leans close. “Kiss me,” he says again, louder than the first time. Castiel looks down, so Dean leans closer. “Please, Cas, I…” He swallows hard. “You know how I feel about you.”

Castiel looks up at that. “I do. Tell me anyway.”

Dean shakes his head slightly. “I...Cas, please.”

“You aren’t ready.” There’s no hostility in Castiel’s voice. No anger. Just patience.

“Cas…”

“It’s okay, Dean. I’ll wait for you.”

“No! Don’t...don’t wait.”

“Dean, I-”

Dean shakes his head, harder this time. “No, please, I’m...I know I’m ready, I know I…” He bites his lip. He can’t let Castiel wait. He can’t do that. He wants Castiel. He  _ loves _ Castiel. He does, and he needs to say it. He needs to say it even though he’s afraid. Because now he realises he’s more afraid of not saying it than anything else. "You’re everything to me, and I need you, and I...I love you. Of course, I love you."

There's a long moment of silence. Dean's afraid that maybe it's not the right time, maybe everything will go terribly wrong again. But he needed to say it. He needed to try. He needed to let Castiel know, hear the words form his own mouth.

"Dean..." Castiel finally says, hands going to cup Deans face. Dean puts his hands on Castiel’s. He opens his mouth, and he says it again, because he’s already said it once, and he wants to make sure Castiel knows. Even though he knows he does, he needs to be sure.

“I love you. I’m ready.”

Castiel's lips are against his soon after. Dean feels ready to melt, and he moves his hand to Castiel's cheek. The kiss is slow, gentle, amazing. Castiel pulls away a moment later, looking Dean in the eyes. “Dean…” he whispers. Dean smiles, leaning in to kiss Castiel again. It’s just as amazing as the first time. He feels Castiel's hands move down to rest at his waist, and he shifts slightly. He tentatively nibbles at Castiel's lower lip, a silent question for more access. Castiel complies, opening his mouth against Dean's with a small moan. Dean shudders at the sound, because holy shit, it's the hottest thing ever. He hums in response, arms wrapping around Castiel’s torso and pulling him close. He hears Castiel gasp quietly, and he smiles into the kiss, before pulling away again.

“Cas, I love you so much…” he whispers, and he can barely believe he’s able to say it when twenty four hours ago, he couldn’t. Castiel smiles.

“Less talking…” he whispers back, lips crashing into Dean’s. It catches Dean by surprise, but he’s not complaining. He hums against Castiel’s lips, their lips moving together like they were made for each other. Things start to escalate from there. Castiel’s straddling Dean’s lap soon, and Dean's stomach twists suddenly, because it feels a little too much like what happened with Michael. He tries to ignore it. He wants this. He really does. This isn't Michael. It's Castiel.

_ Cas. _

The kiss is deeper now, more passionate. It's getting harder to breathe, but Dean tries to convince himself that it's because of the arousal and not the panic building up inside him. He’s fine. Castiel's lips move, starting to kiss along Dean's jawline, then down his neck. "Dean…" Castiel breathes against his neck, before biting down gently and rolling his hips. Dean gasps and freezes up, but not because it feels good. It feels wrong. But still he pushes on. He can do this, he’s okay. He wants this. He wants to feel Castiel’s skin against his. He wants nothing more. He moans quietly, and Castiel moans back against his skin, teeth digging into another spot on Dean’s neck. To Dean’s terror, his lungs feel like they’re half empty. But he needs to do this. Castiel wants this. He wants it, too. He needs to get through it.

Castiel’s fingers are moving across Dean’s skin under his shirt now, slowly moving higher as they inch Dean’s shirt off. Dean squeezes his eyes shut tighter. His brain is screaming at him, and he can’t breathe. He feels like he’s dying. But he says nothing. He won’t. He refuses to. He needs to get through this. He’ll be fine.

Castiel rolls his hips again as his fingers trail higher up Dean’s chest. Dean tries not to think of Michael’s hands in the same spot when Castiel’s fingers ghost over his nipples. He just moves his own hands to inch under Castiel’s shirt, trying to focus on how amazingly warm and perfect Castiel’s skin feels under his fingertips. His brain won’t let him. Castiel gives a tug to Dean’s shirt, trying to get it off of him as he bites down on the other side of Dean’s neck. "Cas," Dean finally whispers, because he might just throw up if things go any further. Castiel hums doesn't seem to notice that Dean's trying to make him stop. "Cas, please...stop…" he chokes out, tears stinging his eyes, and Castiel pulls away immediately.

"Dean?" he says, slightly out of breath. His eyes are full of concern.

"Please...get off…" Dean breathes, and he starts shaking. Castiel doesn't hesitate in doing so.

"Dean...what's wrong?" he asks, his voice gentle. Dean shakes his head.

"I'm sorry…" he whispers. "I'm sorry, I can't…I...love...you, but we can't...do that..." His lower lip quivers, before he collapses against Castiel's chest, and Castiel envelopes him in a not-too-tight-not-too-loose hug moments later.

"It's alright..." he says soothingly, and Dean starts sobbing.

"I'm sorry!" Dean wails.

"It's okay, it's alright." Castiel gently rubs his back. "You're safe."

They stay like that for almost an hour, Dean crying against Castiel’s shoulder, Castiel rubbing his back and trying to calm him down, his voice soft. When Dean finally manages to stop crying, he pulls away from Castiel. “Guess I ruined everything, huh…” he mumbles. Castiel sighs.

“You didn’t,” he says quietly. Dean shakes his head.

“You don’t needa lie.”

“I’m not lying. Your well-being is more important to me than sex.”

Dean bites his lip hard. “Okay.”

Castiel pulls him back into a hug, before kissing his cheek lightly. “I love you, Dean.”

Dean swallows. “I love you, too.”

Castiel pulls away. “Should we go downstairs for some breakfast? My father usually makes pancakes or something special on holidays.”

Dean smiles slightly. “I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look, dean got some happiness
> 
> have a brilliant day/night <3


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry again for taking longer to post this chapter! i hope you are all doing well <3
> 
> tws for slight rape/noncon mention

It’s almost midnight when Dean opens his eyes after an hour of trying to sleep. He’s lying curled up against a sleeping Castiel, whose arms are wrapped around him. Dean feels completely safe for the first time in a while. He can still barely believe that he was able to find the courage to tell Castiel he loves him. Can barely believe that he’s here in Castiel’s arms. That Castiel loves him, too. He smiles at the thought, sighing gently as he carefully puts his hand on Castiel’s chest to feel it move with his breathing. The steadiness of it is reassuring somehow. Dean closes his eyes again, taking a deep breath as he feels any remaining tension in his body seep away. He feels at peace.

That’s when the faint buzzing starts.

Dean ignores it at first, but it goes on and on and on, so he finally moves out of the comfort of Castiel’s arms and props himself up on his elbows. He looks at where his phone is sitting on the bedside table on Castiel’s side of the bed, confirming it’s his phone, before carefully reaching over Castiel’s sleeping body to grab it. He reads Sam’s name on the caller ID, before answering. “Sammy?” he asks, his voice quiet as he glances at Castiel. He doesn’t want to wake him.

**“Dean, I did it,”** comes Sam’s voice. Dean sits up completely, turning his back to Castiel and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Did what?” he asks, dead serious, because he’s starting to worry now.

**“I convinced dad to let you come back.”**

Dean’s jaw drops, and he swears a bit louder than he means to. “Sam, I told you to drop it!” he whispers loudly, glancing back at Castiel to ensure he’s still asleep. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

**“Jesus, calm down, Dean…”**

“You did what I told you not to, something coulda happened to you!”

**“But it didn’t!”** Sam hisses. **“And you get to come home tomorrow! So it’s okay!”**

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sam...” He feels the bed move, and he turns to see Castiel propping himself up on his elbows and looking at him. “Shit, gimme a sec-” He pulls the phone away from his face and turns his body to face Castiel. “Did I wake you up?” he whispers. Castiel yawns, stretching his arms, before rolling over to Dean and setting his head in his lap.

“Possibly,” he murmurs, staring up at Dean. “Who’s that?” he says when he sees the phone. Dean sighs.

“Sam. He said…” He shakes his head slightly. “He said I can go home…” His voice sounds even quieter. Castiel’s eyes widen slightly, and he sits up.

“Dean, that’s…” He pauses. “That’s wonderful.” He doesn’t seem completely convinced, but Dean assumes that’s because he’s just woken up.

“Yeah...yeah, it’s…” Dean shakes his head, not knowing what to say. “Hold on.” He puts the phone back to his ear. “Sam?”

**“Are you coming back tomorrow morning?”** Sam immediately says, and Dean bites his lip.

“I don’t know. Probably.” He doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel more excited to go back. “Can’t miss Christmas, right?” 

**“Yeah! Thank you, I can’t wait to see you…”**

Dean can practically hear the excitement in his voice, and he can’t help but smile. “Yeah, Sammy. See you soon.”

**“I’ll let you go back to sleeping or whatever you were doing. Also, Charlie and I were planning on stopping over tomorrow to surprise you, but since you’re coming back, I can tell you that.”**

Dean chuckles. “Good to know you hadn’t forgotten me.”

**“Okay, I’ll leave you alone for real now.”**

“G’bye.”

He hangs up, before falling back against the pillows on the bed with a sigh. Castiel crawls up and lies down next to him. “What’s wrong, Dean?” he asks softly. Dean shakes his head, mentally cursing Castiel for knowing him well enough to tell when something’s wrong.

“I don’t know, Cas,” he says honestly, turning his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Not yet, anyways.”

Castiel nods slowly. “It’s alright. Tell me when you do know?”

“‘Course.”

Castiel leans over and kisses him gently, and Dean feels his thumb brush over his cheek. He hums gently into the kiss, before pulling away with a small smile.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, Cas,” he whispers. “You’re like my guardian angel.”

Castiel smiles, cuddling up to Dean’s side. Dean wraps an arm around him, closing his eyes. “You’ll always have me, Dean…” he hears Castiel mumble. “But if you didn’t, I know you’d be just fine.”

Dean shakes his head, but says nothing as he finally begins to doze off.

~~~

Dean wakes up to the feeling of someone shaking him. He tries to ignore it at first, because he wants to keep sleeping, but the shaking is persistent. He finally opens his eyes and sees Castiel’s staring back at him. “God, Cas, can’t you let me sleep a little longer?” he mumbles, turning over and burying his face into the pillow. He hears Castiel chuckle.

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean looks back at him.

“Shit, I forgot it’s Christmas.”

“Come on.” Castiel starts pulling at Dean’s arm. Dean raises an eyebrow, sitting up slowly.

“What...where?” he mumbles, rubbing the hand not currently in Castiel’s grasp over his face. Castiel sighs loudly.

“It’s Christmas. Gifts,” he answers, saying it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. But Dean doesn’t feel like it is.

“What d’you mean, gifts…?”

“Presents, Dean.”

Dean hesitates. “For...me…?”

Castiel nods enthusiastically, grabbing Dean’s other hand. “Yes, of course. I need to give them to you before you go back home.”

Dean swallows. He’d nearly forgotten about that. He still doesn’t know why he’s not very excited about the notion of going home. He ignores the feeling and just shakes his head slightly. “Cas, why...you didn’t need to get me anything…”

Castiel rolls his eyes slightly, pulling Dean’s arms again. Dean slowly stands up, and Castiel kisses him gently. “Nobody _needs_ to give anyone anything. I wanted to,” he says when he pulls away. Dean looks down.

“But I didn’t...I didn’t get you anything,” he mumbles, and he feels awful for it. Of course, he has reasons, but he should’ve at least tried. He had some time. He could’ve gone out to get something instead of spending hours cooped up in Castiel’s room. God, he’s stupid.

“Yes you did,” comes Castiel’s voice, and Dean looks up, confused. Castiel smiles that beautiful smile of his and continues. “You gave me the best gift anyone could ask for. You gave me you.”

Dean bites his lip, and he has half a mind to ask Castiel if his brain’s working okay. “Shut up. I’m the shittiest present ever.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No. You’re the most beautiful, breathtaking thing I’ve ever seen, and you allowed me to have you.”

Dean sighs. “Did I? I can’t give you all of myself. Not in the way you want, anyway. Not yet. I just can’t, and I...I’m just a mess. Because of so many things. I was a mess even before Michael, and now I’m just worse. I don’t think you’re seeing me right if you think otherwise.”

“I see you. I love you. I don’t care if you’re not ready to have sex now. I don’t care if you’re never ready to, that’s not all there is to us. To you. You are so much more than your mistakes and problems, Dean. So much more.”

Dean nods slightly, because he’s too groggy to argue, and because he believes that’s what Castiel thinks. Castiel doesn’t lie to him. He sighs, biting his lip as he tries to think of something else to say. “Fine, whatever, let’s just...you said presents?”

Castiel laughs quietly, pulling Dean into a hug. “I love you.”

Dean smiles at that, closing his eyes a moment as he hugs back. “I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“Nope.”

“Yes.”

“Lies. I see through the lies of the Jedi.”

Castiel laughs, louder this time. He pulls away and pushes his perfect lips against Dean’s. “Let’s just go downstairs,” he murmurs against Dean’s lips. “My family’s waiting.” He takes Dean’s hand and starts to lead him out of his room. Dean just follows, still smiling. They’re halfway down the stairs when a thought occurs to him.

“Wait, uh…” he starts, pulling Castiel back slightly as he stops in place. “Cas, do your...do your parents know we’re a thing...?” He’s hesitant to ask, because he doesn’t know if it matters. He doesn’t know if it’s a big deal. He knows Castiel’s parents aren’t the same as his father, but he can’t help but feel nervous about it.

“I haven’t told them, no, but I believe they suspect,” Castiel says slowly, looking Dean in the eye. Dean nods slightly.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Today over breakfast, they decided to tell me the rules should I ever have a relationship while I continue to live in this house.”

Dean goes red, looking down. “Oh.” He swallows, giving a nervous laugh, before looking up. “Wait a minute, did you say breakfast?” He raises an eyebrow. “What the hell, what time is it?”

Castiel grins, his nose doing the cute wrinkle-y thing it does when he smiles wide enough. “Time to get your ass downstairs and spend part of your Christmas with me before you have to go back home.” He starts pulling Dean’s arm again, and Dean smiles once more as he follows him down to the living room. Castiel’s parents are sitting on the couch, along with Gabriel. Anna’s sitting on the floor next to the Christmas tree that Dean is only just noticing, and Castiel sits down next to her. Dean looks around, feeling rather awkward, but sitting down as well, keeping close to Castiel.

“Are you sure I should be here?” he whispers. Castiel looks at him, looking genuinely confused. 

“Of course, Dean,” he whispers back. “They’re happy to have you.”

Dean nods slightly. _‘Happy’._ It’s difficult to believe somehow. And it feels surreal.

“Dean has to go back home, soon, so he should open his gifts first,” Castiel says, giving Dean’s hand a squeeze. Dean smiles slightly. God, his boyfriend is the best. He hears Castiel’s parents agree, and Gabriel gives a whoop and a ‘yeaaaaaah’. Dean looks down, his face going hot, because he’s suddenly the centre of attention. But it’s not in a bad way, so he doesn’t panic. He just clears his throat and forces his eyes up to meet his Castiel’s. His boyfriend smiles like he’s won a million dollars. Dean can’t help but smile back, almost just as wide. Castiel drops his hand and reaches under the tree. He grabs a bright green envelope first, handing it to Dean. “This one’s from Anna.”

Dean’s confused for a moment, because he barely knows Anna and he doesn’t understand why she would give him a gift, but he just looks at Castiel’s sister, offering a small smile. She smiles back, burying her face in her hands. Dean looks back down at the envelope and slowly pulls it open, careful not to tear the paper. He can still feel everyone’s eyes on him, so he doesn’t look up as he works on opening his first gift. When he finally gets it open, he pulls out the paper inside, which is covered in a drawing of a Christmas tree and a slightly oval-shaped Santa Claus with the words ‘Merry Christmas’ in big red letters. It looks as good as expected for a drawing made by an eleven-year-old, but it reminds Dean of the things Sam used to make for him on his birthday and Christmas, so he loves it. “Thanks, kid,” he says, folding the card up again and sliding it into the envelope. “This is really cool, you’re a great artist.”

Anna smiles, and Castiel nudges her gently with his elbow. He reaches under the tree again and pulls out another gift, this one shaped like a small box. “From Gabriel,” he says as he hands it to Dean, who again feels confused as to why anyone other than Castiel is giving him gifts. It’s making him feel strange inside, like his insides are melting, but not in a bad way. He doesn’t question it aloud, though. He just nods at Gabriel, who nods back with a grin. Dean slowly undoes the wrapping, uncovering a small cardboard box. He opens the box to find an assortment of candy and a small slinky. He smiles.

“Dude, these are like my favourite things ever…” he mumbles as he pulls out the slinky. “Thanks, man.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s for fixing things with my little brother,” Gabriel says, leaning back on the couch. Dean nods, looking down slightly. He puts the slinky back in the box with the candy and sets it aside as he hears Castiel moving presents around under the tree. 

“From my parents,” Castiel says as he hands Dean a flat, squishy present about the size of a notebook. Dean looks at Castiel’s parents, feeling more confused than ever, but he forces a smile as he starts to open the gift. He nearly bursts into tears as he pulls out the contents. It’s a flag. A rainbow flag. Like the one on Castiel’s wall. He doesn’t know what to say. Thankfully, Castiel’s parents speak up before he has to say anything.

“We understand if you don’t want to keep it or if you’d rather not hang it up,” Castiel’s mom starts. “But we just want you to know that we’re proud of you and that you should be proud of who you are, and if anything happens at home, you’re welcome here.” She offers a soft smile. Dean bites his lip hard.

“Thanks, Mrs Novak…” he says, his voice cracking slightly, but he refuses to cry now. He just smiles wide, and he doesn’t have to force himself to do it, because he actually wants to. He wouldn’t expect it, had it been any other day of his life in the past, he would’ve been annoyed or confused because of this. But he doesn’t feel that way. He feels okay. “Really, thank you. I love it.” He feels Castiel’s hand on his shoulder, and he looks at him. He’s holding another small box in his hand. Dean takes it slowly, not looking away from Castiel’s eyes.

“From me,” Castiel says, his voice barely above a whisper. Dean nods slightly, tearing his eyes away to open the box. He just stares for a moment once he does open it. There’s a dried out rose, a ring with some sort of engravings on the end of a chain, and a neatly folded letter. Dean looks at Castiel, before pulling out the letter and unfolding it.

_“Dean,_

_I’m probably not the greatest boyfriend, seeing as I’m writing this at three in the morning on Christmas, but here I am. I know roses are cliche, but I happen to like them and what they stand for. I saw this ring a few weeks ago, and something about it just seemed like something you would like. Truthfully, there’s no gift that will ever express how much I love you, so I can’t say I tried that hard to find one. I love every part of you, brokenness and all, and I want you to know that I always will. I’m so glad you came into my life. Merry Christmas from your angel._

_-Castiel”_

Dean’s almost crying by the time he finishes reading, his lower lip quivering as he folds the note and puts it back in the box. He’s kissing Castiel before he can stop himself, holding him close, and he hears Gabriel cheer. He ignores it as he pulls away, just staring at Castiel. “Shut up, you're the greatest boyfriend,” he whispers, burying his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. Tears slowly pour down his cheeks, and he lets them fall, because they’re not sad tears. It feels strange, but he doesn’t feel bad at all. He feels safe. He feels okay. He feels...happy. Dean smiles against Castiel’s skin at the thought.

For the first time in forever, he feels happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can it be? dean got some more happiness? this isn't over yet, but things will probably be quite a bit less angsty from this point on.
> 
> have a grand day/night


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah, i'm so sorry again for taking so long to post this! a lot's been happening and it took me a while to decide how to do this, because it's almost the end!
> 
> tws for slightly homophobia mention, slight rape/noncon mention, slight self harm mention

To say that Dean’s nervous as he parks in the driveway of his house is an understatement. His heart has been pounding the entire drive, and now that he’s here, he wants to pass out. He wishes Castiel could be here with him, but he knows that they both decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. Things would probably go horribly wrong. A bag in the passenger seat contains Dean’s clothes, because he’s been borrowing Castiel’s, a pretty kickass bookmark that has what looks like a hand-painted dragon on it that he picked up on the way back for Sam, and his gifts from the Novaks. Except for the letter from Castiel and the flag. The letter is in his jacket pocket, and he’s wrapped the flag around his waist underneath his shirt. Things could go horribly wrong if his dad finds either of those, too.

Dean’s heart is pounding, and he wonders if he’s going to have a heart attack. He knows he’s allowed back, but he’s terrified of what he’ll find. Of what will happen. Why did his father decide to let him back? It’s been gnawing at him since he heard the news, and it’s really starting to bother him now. He doesn’t know what his dad will do once he gets inside. He doesn’t want to deal with more yelling.

He takes a deep breath as he pulls the keys out of the slot, takes the bag of his stuff in his hands, and steps out of the Impala. His legs feel numb as he walks towards the front door, and he’s about to knock, but stops himself. He shakes his head slightly. It’s his own house, he shouldn’t have to knock. So he just opens the door and steps inside, having to remind himself to kick off his shoes, before he walks into the living room. The old Christmas tree that they’ve had since Dean was five is standing in the corner, the top sagging to the side slightly as a golden star sits on top of it. He chews at his lower lip as he pulls his eyes away from the tree to look at his family, and he’s almost instantly met with a hug from Sam. He smiles, wrapping his arms tightly around his little brother and holding him close for a moment. “Heya, Sammy,” he mutters as he pulls away. And he tenses up, seeing the faint splotch of dark purple tinting the skin of Sam’s left cheek. 

“I missed you,” Sam says, and Dean nods slightly.

“Missed you, too.” He glances at their father, before pulling Sam into another hug. “Sam, did dad hit you?” he whispers once he’s hugging his brother again. He feels Sam tense up as well, and neither of them say anything for a moment.

“Yeah,” Sam whispers back after a moment. “But please don’t make a big deal out of it, Dean, it’s Christmas. And it’s nothing. Really.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“Dean. Please. Don’t make something out of it.” Sam pulls away. Dean’s jaw clenches as he does so, looking at their father, before looking back at Sam. He nods once. He moves to sit down on the couch, and the moment he does, their dad stands up and leaves, muttering something about not needing to deal with this right now. Dean doesn’t mind in the slightest. He sits on the couch, and Sam goes to the tree, before sitting next to him. “Here,” he says quietly with a smile, and Dean takes a deep breath as he smiles back. He starts undoing the wrapping, and he pulls out a Led Zeppelin CD. He shakes his head.

“Sammy, you didn’t have to…” he mumbles. Sam scoffs.

“Are you kidding? Dean, it’s Christmas. And you deserve a lot more than that, that’s just all I could afford.”

Dean feels like crying again, but he refuses to. Instead, he reaches over and ruffles Sam’s hair. “Thanks, man. This is great.” He pulls out the bookmark. “I feel bad now, what I got you is shitty compared to what you got me...”

Sam grins, taking the bookmark in his hand. “No...I love it. It’s really cool.”

Dean nods slightly, deciding he doesn’t want to argue. If Sam likes it, that’s good enough for him. Maybe he can get him something else soon, a late gift. “Hey, wanna watch a Christmas movie?”

Sam nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!” He pauses. “As long as it’s not Silent Night.”

Dean scoffs. “What d’you mean, not Silent Night?”

“Just because the killer is dressed as Santa Claus, doesn’t make it a Christmas movie, Dean!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine, we’ll watch a dorky Christmas movie like A Christmas Carol, then.”

Sam nods. “Thank you.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

~~~

They don’t mention the bruise again, but Dean becomes even more protective of Sam. He doesn’t call child protective services like he wants to, because Sam did that out of panic last Thanksgiving, and there wasn’t enough evidence against his father for anything to happen. Plus, he’s eighteen now. There’s not much they can do with him other than take Sam away from him, and that’s not what he wants.

When Christmas break ends, Dean forces himself to go back to school, if only to keep an eye out on his little brother. It’s hell for the first week back, because he’s working on catching up on everything before semester tests. He doesn’t come close to finishing, so he has to take about half of his classes again online during second semester if he wants to graduate on time. He hates it, but decides it’s for the best. He doesn’t want to go through the pain of summer school. He has a shit ton of work, but he doesn’t feel too bad about it after a week or two. He goes to school like normal. He sits with Charlie and Sam. And Castiel has the same lunch period this semester, so he sits with him, too. Charlie and Sam keep teasing them, and Dean acts like he minds, but he really doesn’t. He’s afraid to kiss Castiel in public at first, but by the end of January, he steals kisses as often as he can.

He turns nineteen. Him, Charlie, and Sam go over to Castiel’s to celebrate, because Castiel’s not allowed anywhere near Dean’s place. Dean doesn’t mind. He likes spending time at his boyfriend’s place, anyway. The Novak parents make him a cake, and he nearly cries, because he’s never had a cake made for him. Not since he was four. The Novaks are pretty much a second family, not only to him, but to Sam, too. Dean finds he feels okay way more often than he did before, and moments of happiness come more often as well. Dean smiles more. He realises the Novak house is his safe place.

He tells Charlie and Sam. It’s while his dad’s out, and Charlie comes over. They’re watching a movie, and when it’s over, Dean spills. He tells them about the party. He tells them about Michael. He tells them about how Castiel got him through it. And he comes out, officially, to both of them. They accept him. They’re proud of him. They love him. Dean cries a lot that day, but it’s not because he’s sad.

He’s four months clean from hurting himself. Castiel is prouder than Dean’s ever seen him. They go out for ice cream. Dean gets vanilla. Castiel gets cookie dough. They talk about street signs for some reason that Dean doesn’t even know. It’s a good conversation, though. They go to Castiel’s afterwards, and Dean spends the night. He sleeps in Castiel’s arms, and he decides that night that his safe place isn’t exactly the Novak house, but Castiel himself. He falls asleep dreaming of the love of his life.

He and Castiel go on their twenty fifth official date. Castiel pays. He usually does. Dean swears he’s going to make up every date Castiel pays for once he gets a job. He’s just so crowded with school work that he doesn’t have the time to get a job right now. So Castiel pays for the dates and the therapy sessions, because he gets an allowance from his parents and has been saving up money since he was ten. Dean later discovers that the money was his college money, and he feels upset that Castiel’s been spending it on him. He’s not worth it. Not nearly. Castiel assures him that he is and that it’s money well spent. He says he wouldn’t have it any other way. Then he kisses him softly, and Dean feels better about it.

He graduates. His dad doesn’t turn up at the graduation. Sam does. That night, he and Castiel get the closest they’ve ever come to having sex. They’re in the Impala, and they both strip down to their boxers. That’s as far as they go, but they’re rubbing against each other like horny teenagers at Bible camp. It’s not much, but Dean manages not to panic, and he calls that a victory. They lie in the backseat of the Impala for hours afterwards, and then they shower together. Dean’s okay.

And he thinks he’s going to keep being okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little factoid: the thing Dean did to hide his pride flag is the same thing i did when i bought my first flag to hide it from my parents :,)
> 
> one more chapter left y'all! i already have it written, but i'm gonna look it over again and wait a while before posting it because yes <3
> 
> have a staggering day!


	28. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the last chapter! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

_ ~Seven Months Later~ _

Dean opens his eyes to see Castiel staring at him, and he just smiles. It's a common occurrence now. Both smiling and waking up to see Castiel looking at him. And he loves it. Castiel smiles back, reaching over to run his thumb over Dean’s cheek, before cuddling up to his side. Dean starts humming ‘Thank You’ by Led Zeppelin. Neither of them say anything for a moment, and then Castiel sighs. “Happy birthday, my love,” he murmurs against the skin of Dean’s shoulder. Dean nearly melts every time Castiel calls him that. He lets his eyes close again, rolling over to drape an arm over his boyfriend as he stops humming.

“Shit, I forgot about that...” he mumbles. Castiel hums gently.

“Two decades, Dean,” he says quietly. “You’ve made it to two decades. I’m proud of you.”

Dean smiles again, shifting so he can kiss him. “Shut up, angel.” Castiel giggles, and Dean’s learned he loves the sound more than anything. He’s learned a lot in the past few months, and he’s done a lot, too. A lot has changed. He’s gotten a job, and he can pay for his own therapy sessions now. Castiel’s gotten a job, too. He’s saving up for college again. They’re both saving up for an apartment in town, and after many sleepless nights of research, Dean thinks he’s found one they can afford with what they have and what they make. He hasn’t told Castiel that yet. So for now, they just spend time at Castiel’s place. He sleeps over most nights. When he does, Sam does, too, because Dean refuses to leave him alone with their father. Dean has planned to bring his brother with him when he and Castiel move into their apartment. For now, Sam sleeps in the guest room in the Novak house that Dean didn’t even know existed the first few times he stayed with Castiel. And while he tries, their dad can’t stop them from staying over. He’s tried to kick Dean out again since the first time, but it never lasts long. He eventually gave up, because he knows Dean has a place to go, he knows he won’t stop seeing Castiel. Dean and his father don’t talk as much as Dean would like. He wishes his father would change. He wants to keep the family together. But he knows that won’t happen. His father’s a Winchester. He’s too stubborn for that.

“I feel old,” Dean mumbles as he pulls away from Castiel’s lips. Castiel rolls his eyes slightly.

“You’re hardly a grandfather, Dean,” he replies, and Dean laughs at that. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“I could be one day, though.” He shrugs slightly, before propping himself up on one elbow. Castiel does the same, eyebrows knitting together.

“That would involve having children.”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

Castiel nods back. “Do you want children?”

Dean bites his lip, before shrugging again. “Yeah. I mean, maybe someday.” He looks down. Castiel laughs, which causes him to look up again. “What? Don’t laugh at me...”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m not laughing at you.”

“Then what?” Dean feels a bit embarrassed now, and he lies back down, staring up at the ceiling. “Never mind, forget it. I’d be a terrible father, anyways.”

Castiel sighs gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You wouldn’t be.”

“Yeah I would. Too much like my dad.”

“You are nothing like your father. You are a much greater man than he is.”

Dean chews on his lip. He knows he’s not his father, but he’s still afraid sometimes. Afraid he’ll become him. But he just nods, because he trusts Castiel. “Fine.” He looks at the ceiling again. “Still don’t know why you laughed. If you don’t ever want kids, just say so.”

“Dean. I do. Someday.”

Dean looks over at him, a smile blooming on his face as he turns onto his side. “Really?”

Castiel nods. “Really.”

Dean leans forward, kissing him slow and long. They kiss for a good few minutes, and it’s Castiel who pulls away. “I need to give you your birthday gifts…” he murmurs, icy blue eyes shining in the faint sunlight from the windows. Dean hums, closing his eyes with a grin.

“Patience, Cas,” he whispers. “Gimme a moment to wake up. And also finish processing the fact that you want kids someday.” He feels Castiel nudge his bare chest, and he looks at him.

“Dean, please, I’m dying to see you open them. And Sam bought you things, too.”

Dean rolls his eyes ever so slightly, smiling fondly at the love of his life. “Okay, fine, but first, I got something for you.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “It’s  _ your  _ birthday, that’s not how it works.”

Dean rolls his eyes, a bit more this time. “Just shut up, Cas.”

Castiel sticks out his tongue, and Dean grins again. He stands up slowly, moving to where his jacket is hanging in the closet. He reaches into the pockets and pulls out a tiny cardboard box. “Remember that ring you gave me last Christmas? The one on the chain?” he asks, moving back to sit on the bed. Castiel sits up and wraps his arms around Dean from behind.

“Mmm, yeah?” he mumbles against the back of Dean’s shoulder. “Haven’t seen you wearing it in a while,” he points out a moment later. Dean nods.

“Yeah, uh...the guy at the auto shop I work at, Bobby Singer? Well, he knows a guy who's into welding and blacksmithery and stuff, so I worked overtime with no extra pay, kinda to get Bobby to owe me a favour. And I asked him if he could ask his blacksmith buddy to do something for me...”

“You’re rambling, baby, where is this going?”

Dean shrugs slightly, and Castiel leans his chin on Dean’s shoulder, kissing his neck gently. “Well. I got the ring melted down.”

Castiel pulls his lips away from Dean’s neck, unwrapping his arms from around Dean’s torso and moving them to his shoulders as he pulls him back slightly to look at him. “You  _ what.” _

Dean shakes his head. “No, look, I got it melted into two separate rings.” He opens the box, showing off the two silver rings. Castiel looks down at them, then up at Dean, mouth hanging open slightly as he squints.

“Dean…?” His tone sounds somewhere between confused and uncertain. Dean turns so he can look Castiel in the eye.

“I thought, you know, we’ve been together a long time, and uh...I love you, and you love me, and things are going well, and…” He trails off, looking down. This is not going as smoothly as he’d hoped.

“Dean, are you trying to propose...?”

Dean looks up at that. “May...be?” He bites his lower lip. “Yeah. Yeah I am. You…” He takes a deep breath. “You’ve done so much for me, Cas, and you’re...you’re my everything, I just wanna make you happy and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. And I know that’s corny and cliche as hell, and honestly while I was trying to plan this out I just wanted to bang my head into a wall because I’m so bad at this, but I jus-”

Castiel cuts him off with a kiss, and Dean hums gently. He half expects Castiel to pull away soon after, but he doesn't, and they just keep kissing. Dean smiles against Castiel’s lips. He starts to think of how they got here. He thinks of everything that happened. He thinks of how Castiel helped him through it, how he’s getting better, slowly, with the help of his angel and the magic of therapy. He thinks of how he and Castiel have had sex twice, and while it was uncomfortable both times, he loved it, and the second time was better than the first. He thinks of how he’s still getting better, of how in the future, he’ll grow more comfortable with it, and that he’ll be able to do it more often, and how even if he couldn’t, Castiel would still love him. He thinks of how he will still have nightmares, still have intrusive thoughts regarding Michael, but that he can cope now, he can manage. He can be okay. He thinks of how he wants to live. He thinks about how he has people who care about him, and how they’re happy. He thinks about how Sam’s happy, still facetiming with Eileen almost every day. He thinks of how Charlie and Jo are going steady, and that they’re happy, too. And he thinks of Castiel. He thinks of how they’re starting to build a life together. And he’s happy.

When Castiel pulls away finally, Dean looks him in the eye. He smiles, genuinely. “Marry me?” he asks, raising his eyebrow slightly. The words are simple, and he knows his proposal is far from glamorous or extraordinary. But he feels like that’s okay for them. Castiel laughs, looks down, takes Dean’s hands in his, looks back at Dean, kisses him once more, before nodding.

“Yes.”

  
  
  


**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH, this has been so great to write honestly. being able to have an outlet for my creativity is amazing, andit's been a great experience to be able to write this and post for you guys to read. all of your comments and kudos are honestly what kept me going instead of abandoning this like i tend to do with most of my projects, so thank you. i love y'all. thank you for reading, and i hope you all have a wonderful day!


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